Page 22 of The Decoy

“Baby’s measurements are fantastic,” the doctor says as she taps the screen to place digital calipers on the image. “Crown to rump length is measuring right at 5.4 centimeters, which places you at precisely twelve weeks and two days. The baby’s heart rate is 148 beats per minute. Everything looks textbook perfect, Ellis.”

She clicks some buttons on her console, freezing four images on the screen before pressing the print command.

“I’ll give you two a few minutes to catch your breath while I go update your file,” Dr. Chen says, her eyes softening as she looks between Brody and me. “Seeing the first image of your baby, looking like a little person, can be very emotional. Take all the time you need. I’ll be back in shortly.”

She hands me the strip of black and white photos before stepping out of the room, shutting the heavy door with a soft click.

I start to sit up, but Brody stands before I’m fully upright. “Let me get you some tissues to wipe that off.”

He hands me a box of tissues, and I pull a bunch out and wipe the gel off my stomach. My hands are shaking, and I feel a little like an alien has taken over my body, flooding me with all these wild emotions. It feels like a physical betrayal of the emotions I can usually control. But Brody doesn’t move an inch. He stays near me, his hand, once again, on my arm.

“You okay, Ellis?” he asks gently, looking at my face with genuine care and concern.

“I’m fine,” I breathe out, using a new tissue to dab another stray tear, and let out an exhausted laugh. “I don’t know why I’m reacting like this. It’s like I have zero control over my emotions.”

“Ellis,” Brody starts, his tone soft but serious. He reaches out with his other hand and wraps both of his hands around my single hand, holding it like it’s a precious gift. “You’re allowed to cry. You’re allowed to feel overwhelmed. You don’t have to be in control all the time. And definitely not in this room.”

I look at him—really look at him.

He sits there in his green sweater, his dark hair slightly messy, but he looks relaxed and watches me with unreserved emotion that makes my throat tighten.

Ever since Dylan walked away from the responsibility and left me to navigate this alone, I felt like I had this weight on my chest. Not because I can’t handle it, it’s just a big, life-changing moment. I’ve tried to pretend that I have everything in its own little box, taking each item out when I need to.

But sitting here with Brody in this room, the reality truly hits me that I’m not doing it alone. He’s here, and he really doesn’t have to be.

He’s a gorgeous bachelor, for God's sake. I’ve literally seen women throw themselves at his feet. And then there’s his commitment to his career, training, and brand commitments that keep him insanely busy, I’m sure. He has no reason to be here, and every reason to keep his distance to avoid the potential media storm that’s likely to happen.

Yet, here he is. Sitting in a chair too small for him, holding my hand, wiping away my tears, and looking at my baby on the screen with pure wonder and more care than the baby’s biological father will likely ever show.

“Brody, I know I keep saying this, but thank you,” I say softly, my voice trembling.

“For what?” he asks, tilting his head, his thumb tracing circles over the back of my hand.

“Just for being here,” I say, looking down at our joint hands. “For driving in from Jersey at seven in the morning. For making sure I don’t have to sit here by myself.”

Brody stands slowly. He’s so tall he towers over me, but there’s not a single intimidating thing about him. He leans over me, placing his hand on my shoulder, his palm radiating comforting heat through the fabric of my silk blouse.

“I told you from day one,” he says, his voice dropping into a low, fiercely loyal murmur that vibrates straight to my core. “I’m not going anywhere. Whatever you need, whenever you need it, I’m in your corner. Period.”

Some kind of magnetic tension settles between us that’s electric and completely undeniable.

His thumb brushes lightly against the column of my neck, his gaze dropping to my lips for a second before rising back up to hold my eyes. My breath hitches in my throat.

We’re standing right on the edge of something that might be completely out of my control. But before either of us moves, the door handle clicks, breaking whatever was happening between us.

Brody steps back an inch, lowering his hand from my shoulder, though his fingers brush gently against mine one last time before dropping to his side.

Dr. Chen steps back into the room holding a folder. “Here are some information packets for you to start reviewing stages of development and to start helping you think about a birth plan. I know it seems early, but it’s a good idea to start thinking about how you visualize the birth,” she says, handing me the light purple folder. “With everything looking right on track, we’ll go ahead and schedule your sixteen-week check for weeks from today. I’m also including an order for blood work. This is what we call a double-marker test, which lets us measure specific proteins to determine whether there are any chromosomal or genetic issues. We also get the sex of the baby, so if you’d like to keep that a surprise, make sure you let us know so we don’t spoil it for you.”

“Oh, I didn’t even think about any of that. Thank you for telling me,” I say, looking up at Brody. “And as far as knowing the sex of the baby, I think yes. Right?” I’m still looking at Brody, like he really is part of this decision.

“Up to you, Princess,” he says, chuckling. “I think you’ll feel better knowing so you can plan all the baby things.”

“Very true,” I say, nodding. “So then, yes, we want to know.”

We?

Well, that just slipped out.