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“Precise enough. In reality, this early, the test will basically show you and Sierra are related in some way.”
Pete blanched, but Dr. Enstrom went on, “That will tell us you and the baby are related, Pete. That’s a good thing. If the DNA we extract from Sierra’s sample doesn’t link up to you in any way, it means the shards of DNA she is sharing with the baby through her blood supply belong to a different father. It’s similar to those early gender test that are out on the market now. Even a smidge of fetal DNA in the bloodstream of the mother can help us determine things like genetic fetal anomalies and parentage.”
“But you’ll know for sure whether or not I’m related to this—” Pete waved his hand at the ultrasound screen and frowned—“baby.”
Baby was a loose term for what it was now this early. I couldn’t make sense of the ultrasound myself.
“Yes,” Dr. Enstrom said with a nod. “It takes several weeks for a test like this to come back, though.”
Weeks. I had weeks of this… of this game in front of me. Weeks of Pete thinking I was lying to him when none of this was necessary in the first place.
“Sharla is our phlebotomist and will come in shortly to draw the blood. It’ll be more than we usually have to take, so be sure to rest for a little and eat something sugary afterward to get your blood sugar levels back up to normal. Pete, open your mouth for me.”
Pete glanced at me, then opened his mouth wide and pinched his brows together as the doctor dragged a swab across his cheeks. Pete had really nice teeth—straight and white. I wondered if he’d ever needed braces. I had needed them for several years, but recently my parents had been pushing me to get veneers like allthe other rich people in their circles had. Teeth that didn’t look real.
I liked my teeth and the slight gap between my top center teeth that braces couldn’t quite fix. I liked the freckles on my nose that my mom had booked laser facial appointments to try to remove. I liked the way my natural hair turned a rich shade of bronzy gold if I spent time in the sun, even though my mom had booked hair appointments to try to turn me a dizzying platinum blonde over the years.
My thick, dark hair was something she had herself, but you wouldn’t know behind all of that bleach she used to keep it blonde and tidy.
What would this baby look like? Would they have my smile, or Pete’s? Would their eyes be gray like mine, or blue like his?
“Do you wear contacts?” I asked Pete.
“No, why?” he asked.
So, he had perfect vision even at his age. That was nice to know. Even if our child needed years of braces, at least they wouldn’t need glasses.
I’d been daydreaming and hadn’t realized the doctor left and a woman came into the room with cart of sharp things to poke me with. I grimaced as she slid the needle into the crook of my arm. Pete, to his credit, placed his hand on top of my head and petted me like a dog, a rather strange attempt of comforting me.
I did feel lightheaded when it was all over and we were checking out. Pete made an appointment for a month from now while I sat in a chair with my head between my hands.
“Hungry?” he asked.
My stomach curled and twisted in on itself. Pete noticed my aversion and sighed heavily as I stood and swayed a bit. He took my arm and lead me out and to the truck.
“I know a place,” he said absently as I leaned my head against the window and closed my eyes.
When I opened them again were we parking in front of a small café off the side of the highway, a twenty-four hour sign glinting in the soft sunlight poking through heavy gray clouds.
“What’s this?” I asked, stepping out of the truck and following him inside.
“They have fries. But they also have donuts.”
“Donuts?” I asked, my stomach doing a little flip. Donuts did sound good, surprisingly. That was something I’d always loved but my mother balked at. When was the last time I had a donut? Decades, probably.
Pete smirked as I walked up to the counter and looked over the dozens of options.
“The jelly ones are the best,” he mused behind me.
I ordered two blackberry jelly-filled donuts and some fries, but Pete didn’t order anything.
“Are you not hungry?” I asked through a mouthful.
“Well, one of those is for me—”
“No.” I laughed. “What made you think that?”
He arched a brow and tried to swipe the uneaten donut but I grabbed his hand and pressed it to the table.
