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It feels a little strange being on the examination table. I’m familiar with all the poster diagrams pinned to the walls, and I recognize all the doctor’s tools and machines. The familiarwomp womp wompof the ultrasound machine fills the small room as she brings the wand to my round belly. Images form on the monitor, nothing immediately identifiable as she searches.
Beside me, Dimitri takes my hand and gives my fingers a squeeze. He watches the monitor with barely contained excitement, his smile so wide and brilliant it’s almost blinding.
“Why are you shaking?” I ask him with a light laugh.
“Can you blame me? I’m nervous.”
“I’mthe one who’s pregnant, silly.”
“Sympathy nerves?” he replies like it’s the only logical explanation.
I caress his cheek lovingly, looking deep into his eyes. Warmth blooms in my chest. I already know what an amazing father he is to Simon, and I have no doubt he’ll be a wonderful father to our child, too. Now that I think about it, his feelings make sense. He wasn’t there for all the little things when Simon was born. No announcement, no doctor visits. He wasn’t even there for the birth of his son. I can tell how much it means to him to be around for everything this time.
“Oh,” the doctor says.
I sit up a little straighter, stiffening. “What’s wrong?” I ask, immediately studying the monitor.
She doesn’t have to explain it to me. I know exactly what I’m looking at. To the average person, the images on screen might seem confusing and indecipherable, but my years of medical training give me a leg up in this regard.
“Is everything okay?” Dimitri asks me. The silence frustrates him. “Someone tell me what’s going on.”
I blink and I blink again, just to be sure I’m not imagining things. I hold Dimitri’s hand a little tighter and point to the screen. “Do you see those four black oblong shapes?”
“Yeah, so?”
“Dima, those are all heads.”
He stares at me. He either doesn’t understand what I’m trying to tell him, or he’s in catatonic shock. “Four? As infourbabies?”
I nod, the corners of my lips tugging up into a huge smile. “Quadruplets, Dima. We’re having quadruplets.”
His mouth hangs open, eyes wide with surprise. Dimitri just… stops functioning. He freezes in place, staring at the monitor in shock and awe. I can’t really get a read on him. Does this upset him? Given the chaotic nature of our lives as of late, the prospect of having four newborns to look after is certainly daunting, though I, for one, am up for the challenge.
“Talk to me,” I urge.
Dimitri huffs, turning to me to cup my face in his palms. He kisses me tenderly. “This is amazing, Nat.” He shoves his hands through his hair. “Four. Holy shit, I think… I think I need to sit down.”
The doctor chuckles amusedly, quickly pulling over a stool. “You better not faint on me, Mr. Antonov.”
Dimitri takes a seat, never once letting go of my hand. He gestures to the monitor, shaking. “Are they… How are they?”
“Perfectly healthy,” the doctor informs. “A little on the small side, but that’s to be expected with multiple births.”
“And, uh… What kinds are they?”
I laugh. “You mean what genders?”
“Yeah, that. Sorry, I think my brain is short circuiting.”
The doctor moves the wand over my belly to check each individual baby. “It looks like they’re all girls.”
A thrill shoots straight through me. Four girls! Tears of joy sting my eyes. I can hardly believe it. I haven’t even met them yet, and the love I have for them knows no bounds.
“Wow,” Dimitri breathes. “I guess Simon and I are about to be outnumbered, huh?”
* * *
We fall into a comfortable routine over the next few months. I’ll admit it took me a little while to grow used to the idea of my partner being a Bratva enforcer. Some days, I struggle with the morality of it, but I know Dimitri better than anyone else in the world. He would never harm someone unless absolutely necessary, and when he has to, it’s never without a good reason.
