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I fight the grin threatening to spread across my lips. “Wouldn’t it be just as big of a surprise to find out at the ultrasound? Then you can do one of those gender reveal things in the backyard with fireworks and balloons like everyone does on the internet.”
She practically growls when she huffs out a deep breath. “You really don’t want to be surprised? Really?” Her agitation is evident in her questions.
I let her sit on it for a few seconds before I finally shrug my shoulders. “Actually, I think we should just wait and be surprised when the baby is born. I mean, we have so few real surprises in life, so why not take advantage of this one and just wait?”
Her hands fly up in the air before one swings around to whack me in the arm. “You’re such a dirty asshole.” She crosses her arms and turns to face the window.
A bark of laughter flies from my lips. “Oh, come on, Cupcake. That was funny.”
She turns her glare my way once more. A lesser man would cower, but all it does is turn me the fuck on. “I was trying to have a normal, real conversation with you, but you had to ruin it,” she pouts, keeping those arms crossed.
I slow with traffic as we approach Hudson, doing my best to maintain the speed limit. I follow the now-familiar route to the doctor’s office. I crack another smile as Hallie rants from the other side of my truck, calling me a plethora of names, each one a little more colorful than the last.
The moment I pull into the parking lot, I turn off the ignition and say, “My baby is listening, you know. His first word is going to be dirty asshole.”
“Her. And if the shoe fits, wear it.”
Grabbing my keys, I slide out of the truck and shut the door. As soon as I walk around and hold her door open while she slides out, I say, “I kinda like shit biscuit.”
Hallie pauses and holds my gaze. I swear there’s desire mixing with that annoyance she feels for me, and if it were another time and place, perhaps I would try to draw it out of her a bit. But getting ready to walk into the OB’s office isn’t exactly the right moment, so I’ll table that discussion for another time.
She lifts her chin and states, “Maybe that’ll be what I call you then. Instead of Baby Daddy, you can be Shit Biscuit.”
I laugh so hard my stomach hurts and I have tears in my eyes. “That’s going to be my boy’s first words. Shit biscuit.”
“Daughter,” she replies, walking right past me and heading for the physician’s office’s front door.
I shut the truck door and make sure it’s locked before hurrying to catch up to her, the entire time, wearing a smile on my lips. I reach her just as she’s ready to open the door, so I do the honors, meeting her gaze for a brief second. Something passes in that moment, an electrical charge of some sort, a heaviness that makes my heart skip a beat.
We step inside the warm reception area and move toward the front desk. Hallie answers a few basic questions before being told to have a seat. She walks over to the same spot we sat in last month, me trailing behind a step or two. Neither of us speaks as we wait, and fortunately, it’s a short one. Within five minutes, we’re called back.
The nurse goes through the same drill with Hallie. First, getting her weight and blood pressure before handing her the small cup for a urine sample. “You can step across the hall and wait in room three if you’d like,” she suggests to me while Hallie goes into the restroom.
I walk around the small room, taking in the posters on the wall, only to realize I’m gazing at a woman’s reproductive system. Yeah, I went through health class, so it’s not like it’s completely foreign to me, but it’s not something I thought I’d be staring at on a random Monday afternoon.
“Okay, Hallie, have a seat,” the nurse announces from behind me.
I quickly move to the single chair positioned along the wall and drop my ass into it, while Hallie sits on the table. I remain quiet as they speak about Hallie’s pregnancy over the last month, the nurse making notes in the chart.
When she stands, she says, “Dr. Bergman will be here in a few minutes. Go ahead and open your button and zipper, but you don’t have to take your pants off.”
“Thank you,” Hallie replies, glancing around the room, at anywhere but my direction, the moment the door closes, and we’re left alone. She does as instructed, leaving her pants open while she lies back on the table. “Are you always this annoying?” she asks, crossing her arms and looking my way.
“I’m just sitting here,” I reply sweetly.
“Exactly!” she whisper-yells, waving her hand in my direction. “You’re just sitting there, acting like everything is fine.”
My eyebrows creep toward my hairline. “Everything isn’t fine?”
“No.” Her reply is instantaneous.
“What’s wrong? Is it the baby? Are you feeling like you’re going to get sick?”
She huffs out a frustrated breath. “No, everything with the baby is fine.”
I wait for her to elaborate, but when she doesn’t, I finally ask, “You’re going to have to help me here, Cupcake. Are you mad at me?”
“Yes.”
