Ethan, wise man that he is, kept his mouth shut.
I gave him a really nice show of my appreciation for my very generous and lovely birthday gift, as soon as we were alone.
CHAPTER 7
4th October
London
“THERE we are. Baby looks a great deal different this time, yes? About the size of a banana now, and at twenty weeks, you are officially past the halfway mark. Measurements are looking to be right on target for a healthy pregnancy. Umbilical cord, perfect. Heartbeat, strong.” Dr. B narrated details about what we were seeing on screen. The magical sight of our baby moving erratically all over the place, legs and arms pushing and pulling in breathtaking clarity. I couldn’t even take my eyes away for an instant to answer the good doctor. The realism was so sharply improved since the last scan, I couldn’t believe it. I was looking at a little person in full form, with no doubt whatsoever about the humanity of what we’d created.
Brynne stared at the screen with me in utter awe, watching a little thumb pop into a tiny mouth for a suckle. Just as quickly as it was sucked on, the thumb was released. “Did you see that?” I asked.
“Oh.” Brynne laughed softly, still staring. “Sucking his thumb… Ethan, he was sucking his thumb—or she was.” She squeezed my hand, the shy excitement in her expression making her glow in a way that was new to me. She looked like…a mother.
“I know.” Moments like these showed me just how good of a mum Brynne would be. No doubts whatsoever. I rubbed my thumb into her palm.
“Ahh, yes, I can try to see if I might tell the sex of baby for you—”
“—No! I don’t want to know, Dr. Burnsley. Don’t—tell me, please.” Brynne shook her head at him. Her decision was final. Any fool could see that, and the doctor was no fool.
Dr. B shot a glance my way, and then tilted his head in question to ask if I wanted to know. I thought for an instant about saying yes, but I shook my head no instead.
“It’s fine, Ethan, if you want to know. I’ll turn away and Dr. Burnsley can look for you.”
Her quiet beauty and utter confidence in her firm decision to be surprised about the sex of our child, was compelling to me. She was so sure about how she wanted to find out. Brynne didn’t want to know until the baby was born, and that was all there was to it. Whereas I would’ve just shrugged and said, “sure, tell me.” I would know if we had a son or a daughter on the way, and that would be exciting to me. Thomas or Laurel?
“No, I’ll be surprised with you,” I told her, shaking my head at Dr. B again, giving him the negative.
Nothing but utter respect for my girl. I brought her hand up to my lips and kissed it. We shared a look but no words. None were needed.
The doc interrupted, “Right, then. Surprised it shall be for the both of you.” He printed out some pictures for us, and wiped the jelly from her rounded bump, before shutting off the machine that managed the remarkable business of taking ultrasonic pictures of our unborn baby. Good God, the man was stronger than me. There wasn’t enough brass in the goddamn world to entice me to do his job. “Well, I will tell you both this much with certainty,” Dr. B said dryly, “your baby, will be either a boy, or a girl.”
“HALFWAY to the finish line, baby.” Over our lunch at Indigo, I accepted that I was trying to do too many things at once, and failing at all of them. Checking messages on my mobile, following the football highlights reporting from the TV in the bar on the level just below us, and making conversation with Brynne. Being an arse is more like.
I set down my mobile, tuned out what the sportscaster was saying about Manchester United over Newcastle, and gave Brynne my full attention. She had that half smile she did to perfection, the quiet observation that told me she was rather amused by my lapse in manners.
“What are you thinking about right now?” I asked.
“Hmmm, just enjoying my view.” She picked up her water and took a sip, her eyes peeking over the edge of the glass. “Watching you working, thinking about Banana Blackstone, wondering when you might figure out I wasn’t answering you.”
“Sorry. I was distracted by crap that doesn’t matter very much. So the better question is, how are you feeling about what the doctor said?”
“That I need to walk instead of running?”
I nodded. Sometimes Brynne didn’t show much reaction to things. I know she heard what the doctor said about her exercising habits, but I didn’t know what she thought of it.
She shrugged at me. “I can do some walking. Besides, I have you to give me plenty of exercise to make up for all the runs I’ll be missing. I’m sure I’ll be fine.” Her half-smile grew into a full-smile, with an added sexy little laugh at the end of it.
She wasn’t kidding about the sex, either. Pregnancy raised the libido in a lot of women, and I was really f**king grateful that my woman had a raging one right now. The doc had given his blessing, and so we were shagging pretty much like mad. And loving every minute of it. “You’ve got that right. Dr. B is my new best mate.”
She rolled her eyes. “Is that so? Typical men’s club stuff with the ‘intercourse is perfectly safe as long as you’re up for it,’” she mocked the doctor’s posh speech with a toss of her head, “with the penis-innuendo thrown in. So clever and original of Dr. Burnsley. I wonder how many times he’s dropped that line.”
“I don’t care how many times he’s said it. Giving the green light on the bang time is all that matters, baby.” I cocked a brow. “And I always am.”
“I know you are,” she whispered sexily, a slight flush spreading up her lovely neck making me want to have my mouth on her.
The look she was giving me right now... A sensual, beautiful, fleeting look, from her to me, over a finely dressed table. And I was undone—in a restaurant at midday, having lunch, wishing I could have her instead. It didn’t take any more than that with us. A look, a touch, a whispered comment, and I’d be instantly caught up in thoughts of when and where.
So I tried to change the subject back to something a bit more appropriate for public consumption. “I also liked what he said about the nosebleeds.” She had been right. Nothing to worry over, just normal side effects. “I’m sorry for overreacting.”
She lowered her head and blew me an air kiss, mouthing the words, “It’s okay.” Brynne put up with my shit with the patience of a saint. I wasn’t under any misconceptions about my rampant arseholery being wearisome a lot of the f**kin’ time. And neither was Brynne. She let me know when I was behaving like a prick, but mostly she just loved me, and soothed all my rough edges. A miracle worker. I was even doing well on tapering off with the smokes. I’d really been pushing myself to finally do it. Ending my nicotine addiction was symbolic of several things. A break with the past, a resolve to live a healthier life, and a commitment to at least two other people who needed me sticking around for another sixty years or so.