The Pregnancy Test (NY Girlfriends #1)(42)
Author: Erin McCarthy

"Yes." Cheryl busied herself with her equipment.

Mandy climbed onto the table feeling whatever small amount of grace she’d possessed had disappeared. And she was only half through her pregnancy. Damien’s hand grabbed her elbow and he helped her down.

She pulled up her sky blue stretchy top and peeled down her black pants an inch or two, staring at the ceiling and grabbing a couple of deep breaths. Everything was going to be normal and she was going to see her baby.

Damien’s fingers on her stomach startled her. "I think you have to pull your pants down farther."

If he started tugging down her pants she was going to smack him. But Cheryl was already shoving them down and tucking a towel into her underwear. Not very dignified, but the technician explained it would keep the gel from getting on her clothes.

"How does the test work?" Mandy asked.

"The instrument records echoes of sound waves as they bounce off the baby and translates them into pictures on the screen."

Only that came from Damien, not the technician.

"Are you in the medical field?" Cheryl asked as she squirted the cool gel all over Mandy’s stomach.

"No, he’s a software executive with a desk full of baby books," Mandy informed her. That were going to be disappearing mysteriously the next day.

Damien shrugged a little sheepishly. "I like to be well informed."

That was an understatement. But her mild annoyance was forgotten when the wand was placed on her stomach and the first image filled the screen. It was a baby’s head, with eyes, nose, and tiny lips.

"Oh, my," she breathed. She reached for Damien, overwhelmed with emotion. "Look at how clear that is."

Damien’s fingers squeezed hers. "That’s unbelievable."

Damn, she was going to cry. She was going to be one of those blubbery mothers who sniffled every time their child filled its nappy.

"There’s definitely only one." Cheryl whipped the wand around.

Mandy ignored the discomfort she felt from the pressure and stared in amazement as various parts came into view. The spine, a perfect little hand, a foot.

"Everything looks great at first glance."

Cheryl was clicking and freezing and measuring things on the screen while Mandy stared and Damien gave a running commentary.

"Look at that, he’s waving at us. Oh, he’s flipping around a little, trying to get comfortable, I guess. Whoa, check out the big toe."

"What makes you think it’s a he?" Mandy thought they were looking at the bum, but she wasn’t entirely sure. "Do you see something I don’t?"

Cheryl laughed. "Do you want to know the sex? I can see if I can get a good shot for you."

"Well, I want to know," Damien said before she could even get her mouth open.

She stared at him. Up to this point, she hadn’t been concerned with whether it was a boy or a girl, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. It seemed like a special surprise at the end. "I don’t think I want to know."

"She can just tell me and I’ll keep it a secret."

Damien seemed to have forgotten one minor little detail. This wasn’t his baby. But he looked so enchanted, so excited for her, that she couldn’t bring herself to say anything. Maybe it was the emotion of the moment. Maybe it was her appreciation for all he had done for her. But it seemed to her that maybe, just a little bit, she had fallen in love with Damien Sharpton.

"I’m not going to have you know when I don’t know." She laughed, picturing Damien trying to keep that a secret. One glance at his desk would unearth a copy of Raising Girls or something similar, and she would have the answer whether she wanted it or not.

"So is that a yes or a no?" Cheryl asked.

He looked at her in agony, leg vibrating as he jiggled his foot. "It’s up to you."

Oh, yes. She was in love with him. Heart swelling, fingers clutching his, tears stinging her eyes, she nodded. "Tell us."

"It’s a girl." Cheryl pointed to the screen. "You can see right here there are definitely no baby boy parts."

A girl. A little girl. Pink blankets and bonnets and lacy dresses.

"A girl," Damien breathed, staring at the screen. "She’s perfect. Like her mother."

Maybe that was pushing things a bit, but Mandy wasn’t going to protest. She felt a single tear roll out of each eye, and she blinked hard to fight more.

"But what’s wrong with the name Rebecca?"

Not the name thing again. Mandy wiped her cheek and laughed in exasperation. "There’s nothing wrong with Rebecca. I just happen to like Cecilia."

"That’s one of those names that sounds great with your British accent, but just sounds flat when Americans say it." He turned to Cheryl. "Which name do you like better?"

The technician held up her hand. "Whoa. I stay out of discussions like this."

"Damien, we can talk about this later." Much later. Like never.

"We’re almost finished here." Cheryl started printing out the photos of the baby. "Due date comes up as October twenty-one according to the size of the fetus."

"Hey, I wanted to ask, could you tell if there was anything wrong like an embolism or anything?" Damien asked Cheryl. "Because before we knew we shouldn’t, we had oral sex. Cunnilingus. And I wanted to make sure we didn’t inadvertently force air into the vagina."

Mandy almost fell off the table. "Damien!" She was certain that nothing could sound more horrifying than the word cunnilingus when spoken in reference to her. "You did not just say that." She didn’t dare even glance at Cheryl, afraid she would melt from mortification at the horror she was sure was on the technician’s face.

"What? We’re all adults here, and I’ve been really worried about it."

The man had the nerve to stand there looking completely innocent. Looking concerned. Looking professional. As if discussing his cunnilingusing her wasn’t something a bit too private for mixed company.

"You have really lost your mind. Next thing I know, you’ll probably be stopping people on the street to discuss my hemorrhoids." Mandy took the towel Cheryl was handing her and started wiping her stomach. She winced as she pressed on her overextended bladder.

"You have hemorrhoids?" Damien exclaimed, his face twisting into a grimace.

She should let him think she did. She should promote any sort of gruesome aspect of pregnancy that would get him away from her before they both found themselves in a complicated mess.