“What makes you think I already have one picked out?” I turn the key and the Chevelle purrs to life.
She smirks at me, cocking her head to one side. “Oh, please. You obviously have one picked out already, or you wouldn’t be so sure it’s a girl and making bets with me when we have an ultrasound to get to.”
I look away, grinning, and put the car into reverse.
“Lily,” I say and just barely catch Camryn’s eye as we back out of the parking space. “Lily Marybeth Parrish.”
A little smile tugs the corners of her lips.
“I actually like that,” she says, and her smile gets bigger and bigger. “I admit, I was slightly worried—why Lily?”
“No reason. I just like it.”
She doesn’t seem convinced. She playfully narrows her eyes at me.
“I’m serious!” I say, laughing gently. “I’ve been going over names in my head since the day after you told me.”
Camryn’s smile warms, and if I wasn’t such a guy, I’d cave to the moment and allow myself to blush like an idiot.
“You’ve been thinking of names all this time?” She seems happily surprised.
OK, so I blush anyway.
“Yeah,” I admit. “Haven’t thought of a good boy name yet, but we’ve got several months to think about it.”
Camryn is just looking at me, beaming. I don’t know what’s going on inside her head, but I realize my face is getting redder the longer she stares at me like that.
“
She leans across the seat and raises her hand to my face, her fingertips pulling my chin to the side. And then she kisses me.
“God, I love you,” she whispers.
It takes a second to realize I’m grinning so big my face feels stretched out. “I love you, too. Now get your seat belt on.” I point to it.
She slides back over onto her side and clicks the seat belt buckle into place.
As we ride toward the doctor’s office we both keep glancing at the clock in the dashboard. Eight more minutes. Five. Three. I think it hits her as hard as it does me when we pull into the building’s parking lot. In no time at all we may meet our son or daughter for the very first time.
Yeah, a few months ago, I didn’t think I’d be alive…
“The wait is killing me,” Camryn leans over and whispers to me.
This is so strange. Sitting in this doctor’s waiting room with pregnant chicks on all sides of us. I’m kind of scared to make eye contact. Some of them look pissed. All of the magazines for guys seem to have a man on the cover in boat holding up a fish with his thumb in its mouth. I pretend to read an article.
“We’ve only been sitting here for about ten minutes,” I whisper back and run the palm of my hand across her thigh, letting the magazine rest on my lap.
“I know, I’m just nervous.”
As I take her hand, a nurse in pink scrubs steps out from a side door and calls Camryn’s name, and we follow her back.
I sit against the wall while Camryn undresses and then puts on one of those hospital gowns. I tease her about her butt being on display and she pretends to be offended, but the blush gives her away. And we sit here and wait. And wait some more until another nurse comes in and has our full attention. She washes her hands in the nearby sink.
“Did you drink enough water an hour before your appointment?” the nurse asks after the hellos.
“Yes ma’am,” Camryn says.
I can tell she’s afraid something might be wrong with the baby and the ultrasound will show it. I’ve tried to tell her that everything will be fine, but it doesn’t keep her from worrying.
She looks across the room at me, and I can’t help but get up and move over to her side. The nurse asks a series of questions and snaps on a pair of latex gloves. I help answer the questions that I can, because Camryn seems increasingly more worried every second that goes by and she doesn’t talk much. I squeeze her hand, trying to ease her mind.
After the nurse squirts that gel stuff on her belly, Camryn takes a deep breath.
“Wow, that’s some tattoo you’ve got there,” the nurse says. “It must’ve been pretty special to sit through one as large as that on the ribs.”
“Yeah, it’s definitely special,” Camryn says and smiles up at me. “It’s of Orpheus. Andrew has the other half. Eurydice. But it’s a long story.”
I proudly raise my shirt over my ribs to show the nurse my half.
“Stunning,” the nurse says, looking at both of our tattoos in turns. “You don’t see that in here every day.”
The nurse leaves it at that and moves the probe through the gel pointing out the baby’s head and elbow and other various parts. And I feel Camryn’s grip on my hand slowly ease the more the nurse talks and smiles while explaining how “everything is lookin’ good.” I watch Camryn’s face go from nervous and stiff to relieved and happy, and it makes me smile.
“So are you sure there’s nothing to worry about?” Camryn asks. “Are you
The nurse nods and glances at me briefly. “Yes. So far I don’t see anything of concern. Development is right where we want it to be. Movement and heartbeat are normal. I think you can relax.”
Camryn looks up at me, and I have a feeling we’re thinking the same thing.
She confirms it when the nurse says, “So, I understand you’re curious about the gender?” And the two of us just pause, looking at one another. She’s so damn beautiful. I can’t believe she’s mine. I can’t believe she’s carrying my baby.
“I’ll take that bet,” Camryn finally agrees, catching me off guard. She smiles brightly and tugs on my hand, and we both look at the nurse.
“Yes,” Camryn answers. “If that’s possible now.”
The nurse moves the probe back to a specific area and appears to be giving her findings one last check before she announces it.
“Well, it’s still kind of early, but… looks like a girl to me so far,” the nurse finally says. “At about twenty weeks during your next ultrasound, we’ll be able to determine the sex officially.”
2
I honestly don’t think I’ve ever seen Andrew smile like that before. Maybe that night I sang with him the first time in New Orleans and he was so proud of me, but even still I’m not so sure anything can match his face right now. My heart is pounding against my ribs with excitement, especially over Andrew’s reaction. I can tell how much he wanted a little girl, and I swear he’s doing everything in his power to keep from tearing up in front of the nurse. Or me, for that matter.
It never mattered to me whether it was a boy or girl. I’m like just about every other expecting mom out there who just wants it to be healthy. Not that our baby’s health doesn’t take precedence over gender in Andrew’s mind, though. I know better than that.
He leans over and kisses me lightly on the lips, his bright green eyes lit up with everything good.
“Lily it is,” I say with complete agreement, and I kiss him once more before he pulls away, running my fingers through his short brown hair.
“Pretty name,” the nurse says. “But keep a boy name handy, too, just in case.” She pulls the probe back and gives us a moment.
