And to think I want to have her go through this again as soon as possible. I rub my free hand nervously over my neck while my kitten giggles at me. Fucking giggles at my concern. That’s it. “C’mere, you.” Wrapping her in a bear hug from behind, I swivel us to look at a poster tacked up over a chair. “How many weeks are you now? Wonder how big they are.”
She scans the pictures and rests her hands lightly over the thin sweater covering her growing belly. I swear, it’s the cutest little pooch I’ve ever seen. “Twelve weeks, so...they’re the size of limes now.”
Worming my hands under hers, I try to imagine them inside of her. Limes. The two of them are no bigger than a pair of limes, and already they’ve stolen my heart.
A knock sounds at the door, and Rosanna squeezes my forearm. “Come in,” she calls out as she hops onto the exam table. “You can sit there,” she adds on, dipping her head to the chair a good five feet away.
Fuck, no. I raise an eyebrow and drag it closer to the table as the door opens and an older woman comes in. “Hello, Ms. Taylor. So good to see you again!” At least someone here seems happy to see us. Well, two if I count the kid with the dinosaur. “And you brought dad along with you this time?”
“N—” Rosanna starts.
“Yes,” I interject smoothly, gently squeezing her knee and pretending not to notice her bugged-out eyes burning holes into my head. “Connor Shay.”Play along, kitten. Don’t take this from me.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Shay. I’m Dr. Blackwell.” As the doctor rolls a chair over, I bring Rosanna’s hand to my mouth while unashamedly refusing to apologize.
“All right, let’s get started, shall we?” The doctor brings out her clipboard and volleys questions to Rosanna about her diet, any sickness, and other things that just make my head spin. Placing her clipboard to the side, she says, “Sounds like everything’s going according to plan, then. Let’s do a quick measurement, and then we’ll see you at your next appointment. Loosen your pants for me a little, please.”
That’s it? Just a few questions and checking the fundal height? Fundal height—that’s something I had fun reading about this morning. I shift anxiously in my seat, expectancy falling and concern growing as she finishes measuring. When she puts the tape away, I can’t hold it back any longer. “What about any more scans?”
Writing down her notes on her clipboard, she explains, “We did one at the last appointment and don’t plan on doing any more until much further in the pregnancy, unless something necessitates the need for it. Being a low-income clinic, we don’t do scans at every appointment.”
“Yes, I understand that, but there’s got to be more.” Politeness covers my frustration, but barely. “Genetic testing, even. Doesn’t she have the option to request that at the second visit?”
Dr. Blackwell cradles her clipboard and smiles gently—if not a bit patronizingly—at the two of us as Rosanna fights with her pants. I make a mental note to take her shopping for some better fitting clothes after this is over. “Again, Mr. Shay, we’re a low-income clinic for women who wouldn’t be able to be seen by anyone else. We do the best we can for all of them, but most patients do just fine without extra scans and optional testing that have additional costs.”
It makes sense, but I don’t like it, and I can’t let her leave without this happening. “Money’s no object,” I blurt out as she turns for the door. “Can we at least get one more scan? I’ll pay today. Please. I... I wasn’t able to come to the last appointment, and no man who’s worth anything wants to miss out on seeing his babies for the first time.”
Taken aback, Rosanna quietly gasps at my public claiming of the babies. I shoot her a meaningful look, one of unfulfilled promise, then glance back to the doctor. If this doesn’t work, I’ll just have to track down someone else to do this for us. But I hope it doesn’t come to that because I had my heart set on it happening today.
A small crack in the older doctor’s professional mask appears as indecision plays over her face. “All right, Mr. Shay. I’ll send someone in shortly for a transabdominal ultrasound.”
“Howaboutthese?”Ihold up a pair of gray pleated maternity pants for her approval. “They look comfortable.” I’m walking on fucking cloud nine right now, my ears still ringing with the whoosh of two little rapid heartbeats. The babies were so fucking tiny! Completely different from the last ultrasound pictures I’d seen, this time they looked slightly more like actual babies. Baby A wanted to hide, but Baby B’s fingers were proudly on display.
Well, just one hand, but still. I wasn’t prepared for just how much pride would inflate my chest at the sight and sound of them. My tiny little lemon limes need names now. Something more than Babies A and B.
“Comfortable?” Slightly amused, Rosanna puts her own selection of clothing on a chair and angles her head at my offering. “Hmm. The pleats’ll age me too much. Then I’ll be almost as old as you.” Her fingers dig into my ribs right along with her verbal poke.
Pokes have consequences, though, so I drag her, pants and all, into an empty fitting room and nip her ear lobe before dipping down to her neck for a teasing bite. “You saying I’m an old man? Last I checked—and that would be as of a few hours ago—this old man was able to make you come hard enough to see stars.”
Her body tenses in my arms as she tries to hold in her giggles. “Ohmigod, Connor! Not in the baby department!”
“Why? It’s not as if I can make you even more pregnant.” Though I wish to God I could. Then I’d have three little ones instead of just two.Patience.Reaching between us, my searching fingers land on the seam in the crotch of her jeans and rub, making her stiffen in shock.
The quietest shriek leaves her, even as her eyes widen and focus behind me. “You didn’t even close the door!”
“Don’t hiss at me, little wildcat, or I’ll put something in your mouth to make you purr.”
Those sinfully beautiful eyes peek up at me, pupils so wide I can barely see any gray. “And just what would you be putting in my mouth? Because there are certain thingsI wouldn’t mind at all. Like”—her hand snakes down between us—“these.”
Shit!I jolt backwards and swallow down a surprised yelp as my knees twist inwards. Those damned nails of hers on my balls are too dangerous. With a kittenish smile that says she knows exactly what she did, she follows me, forcing me to step back. “Aww. Is the big, strong man ticklish?”
I retreat as she advances toward me, her grin spreading wider and wider. Narrowing my eyes, I warn, “You should know that when we get ho—”
The fitting room door slams in my face, stopping me mid-sentence, as a ringing peal of laughter carries through the opening in the top. “Bring me the clothes I left on the chair, please?”
Well-played, little wildcat. Well-played.
Smirking to myself, I grab her clothes and toss them onto the top of the door. “Here you go, kitten. I’m gonna take a look around, but I’ll be close by if you need me.”
