This is my first major appointment. Where is he? I take my phone out of my purse and tap it on. The screen comes to life and my eyes scan for the time. 2:15. Michael's late. It looks like he isn't even going to show up, and I guess I shouldn't be surprised. He wasn't particularly interested in joining me today, but during breakfast this morning, he opened his newspaper and without so much as looking in my direction, he agreed to come to keep up appearances. "Maybe a reporter will see us walking out of the office," he said, almost to himself. Is that really all he thinks about?

"Mrs. Anders, we're ready for you." My mind snaps back to the present.

I look up from my phone and see a nurse holding a clipboard. Well, it looks like I'll need to handle this appointment solo. He's definitely not going to show up. I gather my things—phone, keys, and purse—and head back. The nurse begins by taking my vitals—weight, temperature, and blood pressure. She asks me an assortment of personal questions, such as when my last period was, and whether or not I smoked or drank prior to conception, and if I'm taking pre-natal vitamins. It almost feels like an interrogation. I'm not used to this. After answering, she instructs me to undress and put on an unflattering paper gown—it' a far cry from the dresses in my wardrobe—and then she says that the doctor will be with me shortly. As I'm lying on the exam table, my mind starts to race again. I mean, here I am, pregnant with another man's baby, and to top it off, that man happens to be my stepson. How in the hell did my life take this turn? But before I can mentally answer that, I hear a soft knock at the door, and my OBGYN walks in. He's in his mid-50s with a bushy white mustache. He has a jovial twinkle in his eyes.

"Are you ready to see your baby today?" he asks with more enthusiasm than I expected.

Wait. I didn't realize I was going to see anything at this appointment, and I'm immediately nervous. "I am," I say, simply. Shouldn't I be feeling more excited?

"There won't be a whole lot to see, but because you are at approximately the 6-week point, we should see a heartbeat."

"Oh wow."

"Pretty great, right?"

I nod my head.

"But before we take a look, I'd like to review your chart with you. I see that you're 36 years old. I don't want to scare you, but we consider that advanced maternal age, so we need to closely monitor things."

Did he just say 'advanced maternal age'? What is that supposed to mean? Am I really that old? He notices my alarm and quickly finishes with, "But you look fantastic. I see you're in great physical health and I don't foresee any problems, so let's go ahead and take a look. Lie back. I'm going to use this wand. We call it a 'magic wand.'" He says this and chuckles. I'm not sure whether to laugh or not. Is he planning to stick this wand inside of me? I watch as he rolls a condom down the wand and lubes it up. Yep, he's definitely sticking this inside of me. I try to relax and keep my eyes on the small screen to my right side. Within a few moments, a black and white image appears, followed by a fast, rhythmic sound that seems to glow white.

"That's the baby's heart beat."

I squint my eyes and gaze at the screen. There, right in the middle, is a small image that resembles a gummy bear and sure enough, there is a beating heart. I'm not an overly emotional person, but when I see that, I cry. A mixture of emotions are surging through me—love, fear, resolve, courage—you name it. I wipe my eyes, carefully avoiding my mascara.

"It happens to everyone," the doctor says. "The first appointment is always emotional."

"You can say that again," I laugh. I wonder what Michael would've thought or felt, standing in this room today. But now I'll never know.

Once the appointment is over, I drive back home. On the seat next to me is a printed sonogram picture. The doctor gave it to me so that I could share it with Michael, although I doubt he'll care. I keep this picture in my hand as I walk into our home. The hall light is on, which is strange. Michael must already be here.

"Hello?" I call out. There's no reply. I walk upstairs. I still don't hear anyone, but I can smell a hint of cologne and there are a number of different lights on throughout the house. It's not Michael's cologne that I smell, but still something familiar. Where do I know that smell?

I walk toward his study. There's a light on. He must be answering emails or reading one of his books. I turn the knob and push the door open. What I see in the middle of the room makes me drop the picture in my hand, and it flutters to the ground.

"Oh fuck, yes," Michael says. He's sitting in his chair, and there's a man's face in his naked lap. His hands are buried in the man's dark hair, and he's rhythmically pushing it down on his cock. I recognize the man as Kenneth. Now I recognize the cologne.

"Come for me," Kenneth growls. I can hardly believe what I'm seeing. I knew Michael and Kenneth were having an affair, but I never thought they'd bring it here. Michael grunts and cums hard into Kenneth's mouth until he's completely drained, every last drop. It seems I arrived just in time for the finale. His cock spasms, and I watch as it dies down. I can see thick strands of cum drip from his mouth, and coat his tongue and lips. Kenneth is still on his knees and gets up slightly, placing his hands affectionately on Michael's chest. "You can have this every day—you are I, pure bliss—just say so. We can be happy together," Kenneth says, and then leans in to Michael, pressing his lips to him. He brushes his tongue against his lips, and Michael sucks it eagerly, cleaning it of the cum that covers it.

It is only at that point that both men notice my presence at the doorway. They both pull away from each other and gaze at me, wordless. There is a thickness to the silence, and for a moment, no one knows what to do. Kenneth seems pleased that I've just witnessed it all. A sly grin dances across his face. Michael is stunned, and debates how he should respond. I can almost see his mind working overtime. Then he finally speaks, "Really now, Jocelyn. Don't look so surprised." He bends down and picks up his pants, carefully pulling them on, one leg at a time.

"You were supposed to be at the doctor appointment with me today."

"I changed my mind," he responds, shrugging his shoulders. "And besides, this was only a fair turn of events. While you go off and fuck—who—no, I don't even want to know—whoever it is that you're fucking, I'll get mine."

I look at Kenneth and he nods his approval. He looks ecstatic and casually runs his fingers through his hair, smoothing it back into place. I bet this was his idea to be here, in this house, with Michael today. It would make sense.

"As you wish," I say, all emotion hidden. I tell myself that I shouldn't care. This was always a marriage of necessity. A favor for my father. I've never loved Michael and he's never loved me.

Michael clears his throat and says, "Good, now if you know what's good for you, you'll close that door and run along."