When he came out, I was already snuggled up in bed with Netflix turned on. He bounced next to me on the mattress, folding his arms under his head. “What are we watching? Subtitles?”
“It’s this Spanish show calledElite.Basically, a bunch of privileged kids do whatever they want, including murder people, and get away with it.”
He watched for a minute and chuckled. “Looks like the schools I went to growing up.”
“Ugh, you went to private schools?” He nodded. “I did too. Can we promise not to send this kid to some fancy prep school?”
He rolled to his side and pulled me closer. “Did we turn out so bad?”
“We didn’t, but I know plenty of people who did.”
He drew a checkmark on my arm. “Got it. No fancy prep schools. Wouldn’t want our kid to turn into a murderer.”
I snorted. “Right? That’d be the worst.”
It took a while for Mo to get into the show—he claimed his brain couldn’t handle subtitles—but once he did, he was all in.
“So, that guy just bashed his sister on the head and he’s walking around like he’s his best friend?” Mo blinked at me, then the TV.
I shoved his chest. “I didn’t write the show. And yes, he murdered Guzman’s sister at the end of last season.”
“Okay, we’re gonna have to watch season one together.” He frowned down at me. “Would you mind pausing season two to do a rewatch?”
That swirly, squirmy feeling I normally felt in my stomach had migrated to my chest.
“I think I can manage that. And after we watch both seasons, we’re going to move on toBaby. It’s Italian, and if you think the kids inEliteare awful, wait until you feast your eyes on the drug dealing and prostitution going on in their world.”
He flopped back on the bed like he’d been shot. “Jesus. Being a father is going to kill me. Maybe I shouldn’t be watching these kinds of shows. I was concerned about how to change a diaper, now I have to addmake sure my kid doesn’t become a prostituteto the list.”
I shrugged. “I mean, I kind of think that should be at the very top.”
He covered his eyes with his arm and laughed. “You got me there. Definitely putting that at the top.”
As soon as I’d climbed into bed, I’d been sure I’d fall instantly asleep. But once I was there with Mo, I found I wanted to stay awake and extend my time with him. He was easy to be with, easy to like. And with him, it was easy not to worry what tomorrow could bring.
We finally fell asleep together, twined around each other like we’d fallen asleep this way a hundred times before.
There was no waiting, no technician, no silently clicking measurements. The specialist, Dr. Feuerstein, explained everything we were seeing on the screen as he went, first checking the heart, declaring it normal, then moving to the skull.
Mo remained stalwart by my side, our hands intertwined as we both studied the screen.
“I’m not seeing any abnormalities,” Dr. Feuerstein murmured as he moved the wand over my belly. He flicked a switch, turning the normal 2-D image into 4-D, and pointed out areas of the skull which had been marked as concerning during the last ultrasound, but now appeared as normal as the heart.
Mo kissed my cheek and laid his head on my shoulder. And I...I didn’t know how to feel. I’d spent the last two weeks pushing down my feelings of fear, so now that the scare was over, a cascade of denied emotions came rushing to the surface all at once.
When the doctor showed us our baby’s face, the tears I hadn’t cried spilled down my cheeks in decadent rivers.
“It has your lips,” Mo said.
I let out a wet, shuddery laugh. “Right? My goodness, I wasn’t expecting this. That’s our baby, Mo.”
It did have my lips, and quite possibly my nose. As we watched, the baby stretched and yawned, and my heart grew so big, it could barely be contained in my chest.
Though I was turned away from Mo, I didn’t miss his quiet sobs, and I didn’t think he was trying to hide them. He was as relieved and enamored as I was. This might have been the first time I truly felt like we were in this together instead of experiencing this separately.
“Can we find out if it’s a boy or girl?” Mo’s voice sounded far away all of the sudden. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to breathe normally.
Mo stroked my hair and wiped some of the free-flowing tears from my cheeks. “You want to?”