Page 8 of The Decoy

“Uh, I didn’t think about this part,” I say, looking at Brody.

“I can leave the room if you’ll feel more comfortable.” He gestures to the door.

“That might seem weird since we didn’t correct her about you being the father,” I say, laughing awkwardly. “I mean, we’re both adults. It’s not like you’re looking at my vagina. Maybe just turn around while I take my pants and underwear off?”

“You got it,” he says, smiling, then turns his back to me.

Just as I sit back on the table and cover my lap with the sheet, there’s a knock on the door.

Dr. Marsh pops her head around the door. “Hi, Ellis,” she says, walking over to me and shaking my hand, then she looks at Brody with a warm smile. “Hello there.”

The nurse we saw before comes in behind her and closes the door.

“Hi, Doc. Brody Vaughn,” he replies politely and offers her his hand to shake.

She looks at him for a moment, probably trying to register where she knows him from, then turns back to me.

“Okay, Ellis, go ahead and lie back,” she instructs, pulling out the extension on the table. “The urine test confirmed the pregnancy, so the blood test should support those results and give us some additional information that we’ll share with you as soon as we get it.”

She pulls a wand off the cart and rolls a condom onto it. “Since you’re in the early stages of your pregnancy, we’ll do an internal transvaginal sonogram to locate the gestational sac and measure the heart rate.”

I lie back against the cold paper covering the bed.

Brody squeezes my hand to get my attention, and when I look up at him, curiosity and confusion cross his face. He glances at the wand, watching Dr. Marsh prep it with clear gel, then back at me.

“Wait,” he says, his brow furrowing as his unfiltered thoughts slip out. “Wow. So, that’s how they do that?”

The innocent bewilderment in his voice echoes in the quiet room.

Dr. Marsh and the nurse laugh, and even I can’t help the bubble of laughter that spills out of me. The tension, or anxiousness, I was feeling instantly popped like a balloon.

“Yes, Mr. Vaughn, this is how we do it in the early weeks,” Dr. Marsh says, her eyes amused. “It gives us the highest resolution. Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt her or the baby.”

“Got it,” he mutters, and I notice a flush rising on his neck as he rubs the back of his neck with his free hand.

I look up at him, my heart doing an unfamiliar roll in my chest. He’d done that on purpose, whether consciously or by instinct; his curiosity shattered my anxiety.

“Okay, Ellis,” Dr. Marsh says, her tone gentle as she positions the wand. “You’ll feel a little pressure.”

I tighten my grip on Brody’s hand again. He leans down, his body blocking out the cold clinical environment, his hazel eyes locked on mine. “Look at me, Ellis,” he whispers, soothingly. “Just look right here. You’re gonna do great.”

I hold his gaze, anchoring myself to the steady strength in his eyes.

The monitor screen flickers, showing us a grainy image. Dr. Marsh adjusts the probe, zooming in on a small black circle inside a bigger white circle.

“There it is,” Dr. Marsh says softly. “The gestational sac is right where it needs to be. Perfect placement.”

My breath catches in my throat as I stare at the screen. All logical thought shutting down.

“Let’s see if we can get the heartbeat,” the doctor murmurs, pressing a button on the control panel.

Within seconds, static fills the room. Then suddenly, a noise erupts from the speakers.

It’s a fast, loud, and impossibly strong whooshing sound—like a tiny drum beating inside my body.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

The world feels like it’s stopped moving. All the high-profile deals, family legacies, Dylan’s abandonment…every single thought in my head dissolves into this moment. My baby’s heartbeat.