Page 25 of The Decoy

Instead of answering, I hand her the cellphone.

Ellis goes still. The fork in her hand is frozen mid-air as her eyes lock onto the phone screen, her shoulders pulling tight as she takes a deep breath.

Seeing her like this flips a switch inside me. All the playful banter, my smooth charm, and the smirks melt away, replaced by my solid presence.

“Is that…” I ask softly, my voice steady.

“The blood work,” she whispers. “The genetic screening and NIPT panel. I got my blood drawn the other day.”

Without saying another word, I pull a chair closer and sit as close as I can to her, eliminating any space between us. I reach out, resting my hand along the curve of her back, just a reminder that I’m right here with her.

“Well, let’s see what it says,” I say close to her ear, keeping my voice calm and relaxed.

Ellis takes a deep, shaky breath and bites down on her bottom lip. Her finger trembles just enough for me to notice as she slides her thumb across the glass to open her phone.

A PDF report loads on the screen, displaying columns of results and medical terminology that I don’t understand. I watch her scanning the screen line by line as she tries to interpret the medical jargon.

“Trisomy 18…negative,” she whispers, her breath hitching as her finger traces the glass. “Trisomy 13…negative. Trisomy 21…negative. Fetal fraction is fourteen percent…genetic sequence is normal. Low risk across all primary chromosomal categories.” She pauses, her voice cracking on the final word as she reaches the bottom of the summary. “Everything is healthy.”

“That’s amazing,” I say gently, my eyes scanning the PDF. “Do you see the sex of the baby?”

"I can't look at the sex part," she says. "Not off a screen. It feels so impersonal, Brody, like I'm reading a spreadsheet instead of actually finding out. Aren’t I supposed to have one of those fancy gender reveals where you open a box and a bouquet or balloons float in the air and then pink or blue fireworks explode?"

“You’d hate all of that.”

“You’re right. I would. Too much fuss. I also don’t want to find out from a screen.”

"Okay," I say. "Then you won't."

I get up before she can ask what I mean, and I walk out of her office, leaving her at her desk with the screen still glowing in front of her. Her assistant's at her desk in the hallway, and I lean down and keep my voice low.

"Hey — any chance there's some Overtime around here somewhere? Maybe in the staff lounge or something?"

She blinks at me, then rolls her chair out from her desk. A minute later, she leads me to a kitchen where there’s a glass fridge filled with different flavors of Overtime. I find exactly what I’m looking for. One pink. One blue.

Her assistant looks at me funny, and I just shrug. “We’re having a debate on the best flavor.”

I carry them back into Ellis’s office and shut the door behind me with my heel.

"Sit," I tell Ellis, nodding at the little couch under her window.

"Brody, what are you⁠—"

"Sit down."

She sits, eyeing the bottles in my hand. I drop down next to her.

"I'm going to look at the screen," I say. "You're going to close your eyes. Whatever's in your lap when you open them again — that's our answer."

"That's ridiculous."

"It’s happening. Close your eyes, Ellis."

She does. I set down one of the bottles, take her phone, look at the screen, and my own breath catches somewhere in my chest before I even find the line. I read it once, twice, to be sure. Then I set one of the bottles gently in her lap.

"Open."

She pauses for a beat. Her chest rises with a deep inhale as if she’s soaking in the magnitude of the moment. In just a second, she’ll find out if she’s having a son or a daughter. Even for me, a third-party bystander in her miracle of life, it feels important.