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Being the father of Dana’s baby is the most important thing I’ll ever do. I just know it.
The ultrasound tech comes in a bit later and has Dana put her feet up in the stirrups. Apparently, the ultrasounds you see in the movies don’t happen until later in a pregnancy and Dana’s doctor expects it’s still quite early.
I hold Dana’s hand, letting her grip in discomfort as the tech slides their device inside her.
“Okay, let’s see if we can…” the tech goes quiet, focusing in on their screen.
Dana and I wait with bated breath. I bring her hand to my lips and kiss it.
Her blushing lips creep up again.
The silence of the room is interrupted by a rapid thrumming from the tech’s machine.
The tech smiles. “There it is.”
“There what is?” I ask.
“Heartbeat,” Dana answers in a delicate voice.
I freeze.
“Strong too, especially given how early we’re looking,” the tech explains.
Everything else drifts away as I listen to the steady heartbeat of my child. I close my eyes, imagining what it will be like to feel that tiny beating heart once I have them in my arms. That’s when the tears finally fall.
Dana wraps her arms around me, brings me to her chest. Holding me.
She believes in me.
I’m not my father. I could never walk away from this.
19
DANA
Drewand I have been on cloud nine for the past week. That’s as long as we’ve been able to keep it quiet before I’m absolutely bursting at the seams to tell my family that I’m pregnant. I’m not like Harley or Gillian who can push all the secrets down into nothingness. I need someone to know. Everyone to know.
It might be a little early. First trimester is still so vulnerable and we have to be careful. But I’d rather have everyone know as early as possible to celebrate with us the whole time. And when I brought up telling everyone to Drew, he was incredibly encouraging.
“There’s no reason to hide it. I don’t want it to be a secret. Not at all,” he said.
Which is why we’re walking into family dinner at Dad’s house wearing matching “Mom” and “Dad” T-shirts hidden under a sweater and a flannel (respectively). We’ll wait for the right time to reveal and see if they can put the pieces together.
However, right when we arrive, I’m yanked into the kitchen by Gillian who is in desperate need to a sous chef. I give Drew a look of helplessness over my shoulder as I’m shoved away.
“God, it’shotin here,” I exclaim the second the suffocating kitchen heat hits my skin.
“Dad doesn’t have the air conditioning on,” Gillian says. “Which I didn’t know when I decided to make a whole quiche.”
I look around the kitchen for any fragrant foods. Still sensitive to aromatics and I’d hate for everyone to start speculating because I hurled my guts out in the middle of dinner. I know Kira already has her suspicions.
All clear. Thank god.
“What can I do to help?”
“Oh, I don’t really need your help, I just wanted to talk to you.” Gillian pulls a stool out for me. “Sit.”
I smile. I love being the sister everyone comes to. It’s a lot of responsibility, but I’m secretly very proud to be the go to for all my sisters. The one they come to when they need a shoulder to cry on, an ear to lend, or someone to bounce ideas off of. I can imagine many women in my position would be resentful of that, having to pick up the slack for an absent mother.
