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But before I could question what that was supposed to mean, the nurse showed us into a room that had a huge television on the wall and a flat padded table that had two large pillows at one end.
Oh, and a sonogram machine.
I looked at it for so long that Folsom poked me.
When I looked at her, understanding suddenly dawned in my eyes.
“Folsom…”
She giggled and took a seat, lifting up her dress to reveal shorts and her stomach.
“Take a seat and the sonographer will be in shortly,” the nurse chirped, then she was gone.
“Something you’d like to tell me?” I asked, feeling my heartbeat pound.
“Come sit down,Daddy.” She pointed at the seat.
That’s when things suddenly clicked.
She’d been calling me that for months.
Other things started to make sense, too.
The frequent bathroom breaks.
The way her clothes were starting to fit tighter.
The way she always seemed so emotional—though at first, I’d thought that was due to my accident.
Oh, and the way she wanted sex. All the fucking time.
Not that I would ever complain about that, but she’d gone from wanting me, to needing me, to having to have me or she’d die.
“What the fuck, Folsom?” I asked. “You couldn’t have told me when I didn’t catch on?”
I shuffled to the chair and all but collapsed into it.
She giggled as she said, “And miss this look on your face?”
I would’ve replied, but the sonographer came into the room after a short knock and said, “Y’all ready to see the baby?”
“Yes!” Folsom said, sounding as eager as I now felt.
A baby.
Holy crap.
Mybaby.
With Folsom.
I was going to be a father.
“You’re marrying me,” I said out of the blue as the sonographer got to work.
Folsom snorted. “That wasn’t a question.”
“I didn’t ask one,” I pointed out.
