CHAPTER 21
Bodie
I’ve seen some shit in my time as a SEAL and working at Jameson. Bullet wounds, broken bones, guts spilling out. I once saw a man jump off a three-story building and land on his head. It popped like a grape, and brains splattered all over.
Blood and gore never bothered me, but when the doctor pulls a fucking eight-inch-long needle out of its protective wrap, knowing he’s going to stick that in Rachel’s stomach, my knees go a little weak.
I’m standing by the examination table at her side, and my hand blindly reaches out to hers. She gives me a comforting squeeze, and I realize it’s the first time since Rachel and I started on this journey that she’s the one giving me support.
The thought is almost laughable, but I’m afraid if I open my mouth, I’ll puke.
Rachel just lays there like this is nothing. She even has her other hand propped under her head to raise it, so she can watch what’s going on.
Dr. Anchors has already run the ultrasound wand over her lower belly and located the baby’s position. He did that while the local anesthetic he gave her was working its mojo. Now he gets all his implements ready, which is basically just a big fucking needle he’s going to stick in my woman.
The doctor has laid a blue sterile paper over Rachel’s lap, which is where he puts the needle. I watch uneasily as he rubs a gauze soaked with a reddish-brown antiseptic all over her belly. She’s at fifteen weeks now and according to the internet, the baby is as big as a navel orange. I read that last night after Rachel went to sleep. It seems awful big, which means there’s not a lot of room in there for the doctor to make a mistake.
Just thinking about that again causes my anxiety to flare. I want to scoop Rachel off the table and run.
I get another squeeze of her hand in mine, and my gaze travels to meet hers. She’s staring at me knowingly, but she doesn’t make a big deal out of my fears. I give her hand a squeeze back, but that’s not enough. Bending over, I put my lips to her forehead and whisper, “Brave girl.”
“Okay,” Dr. Anchors says. I pull back from Rachel to watch. I don’t want to, but I’m going to because it’s the least I can do. “Let’s get started.”
A nurse moves in close with the top of the syringe that will draw the fluid out. It’s oddly shaped—a rectangular-looking unit with a pull lever and cylindrical container in the middle for the fluid. Dr. Anchors puts the ultrasound wand back to Rachel’s belly and quickly locates the baby. My breath catches much as it did the first time, and I sneak a quick peek at Rachel. She’s staring at the ultrasound screen with large eyes full of wonder.
Dr. Anchors holds the wand in place and carefully takes the needle in his other hand. He deftly pierces her abdomen, pushing it down through her uterine wall. My head swims for a moment, but then I blink it away. The nurse moves in, attaches the thing she’s holding in her hand to the cap on the needle, and pulls the lever. The cylindrical container fills with a golden yellow liquid. She pulls on it slowly but steadily, and I get a little dizzy again at the amount of fluid coming out.
My eyes cut to the screen and I have to swallow hard when I see the needle hovering so very close to the baby. My hand reflexively bears down on Rachel, but I don’t care at this point. I assume she’ll pay me back during childbirth.
When the tube is filled, the nurse disconnects from the needle, and then Dr. Anchors is pulling it free. He moves the wand a little, checks the baby again, and then pronounces, “All done.”
“That wasn’t so bad,” Rachel says lightly.
Dr. Anchors chuckles. “I find that the women usually have an easier time than the men with that procedure.”
“Not this man,” I say in a deep, confident voice with my chest puffed out slightly. Thank God, the nausea has passed.
“While most of the results will take a few weeks, we’ll have the gender back in a few days,” Dr. Anchors says as he pulls off his gloves. A nurse dries Rachel from the antiseptic that had dripped down her sides, and when she’s done, I help her sit up on the table.
“It’s a boy,” Rachel says as she comes up to the sitting position.
“Oh, yeah?” Dr. Anchors says with interest. He pushes up from the stool and goes to the sink to wash his hands. “I believe Bodie declared it was a girl on the last visit.”
“It’s definitely a boy,” she says confidently. “I just know it.”
“You didn’t tell me that,” I say somewhat accusingly. Many of our discussions focus around the baby and the pregnancy, and my little proclamation about it being a girl was just a joke. I have no clue whatsoever.
“I didn’t know it until just a little bit ago, when we saw him on the screen. And then I just knew.”
“Huh,” I say in contemplation. She’s so confident about it, I sort of believe her. I could totally handle a son. But then a thought hits me. “I’ve got a weird request, though.”
“What’s that?” Rachel asks.
“I don’t want to know the sex just yet.” Rachel doesn’t even look surprised. In fact, she has sort of a knowing smirk on her face. “I mean… I don’t want to find out by Dr. Anchors calling us in two days. It’s kind of—”
“Anticlimactic?” Dr. Anchors suggests.
“Not traditional,” I suggest instead as I turn to the doctor. “It’s just… I sort of imagined it would be via an ultrasound and Rachel and I would be looking at the screen, not able to even understand what we’re looking at, and then you will point at a spot on the screen and say something like, ‘Look… it’s a penis.’ And then I’ll yell ‘yee-haw,’ and Rachel will be like, ‘I told you so,’ and—”
Rachel starts laughing and claps me on the shoulder. “Fine. Let’s not find out the gender until the next visit with an ultrasound.”
Dr. Anchors chuckles as he dries his hands. “I’ll note in the file not to call you with results, and believe it or not, you’re not the first parents who have requested to find out via ultrasound.”
“It’s a plan,” Rachel says with a smile.
Dr. Anchors reaches his hand out, shakes Rachel’s, and then mine. He and the nurse clear out of the room, and Rachel hops off the table.
I reach over to a chair in the corner and pick up her clothes. As I hand them to her, I ask, “How did that really feel?”
As Rachel shrugs on her jeans, she says, “It felt weird. The needle burned at first, then I felt a little crampy when they started taking the fluid out.”
She stands up straight to button and zip her jeans. “It hurt a hell of a lot more getting shot.”
“I thought I was going to pass out there for a moment,” I admit sheepishly. “I don’t know how you were so calm.”
I expect Rachel to laugh at me. Poke at me a little. Tease me good and proper.
Instead, she steps into me and wraps her arms around my waist. “Thank you for being by my side. That’s why it didn’t bother me that much.”
Jesus. Sometimes, the things this woman says make me want to believe in all kinds of potential for our future.
Makes me think we could have something amazing if Rachel were to ever let loose and open herself up.
When she pulls back from me, she moves over to the chair to put her socks and tennis shoes on. I check my watch, mentally calculating the things I need to do tonight. I’m leaving tomorrow for Egypt. It’s an intelligence-gathering mission we’re subcontracting on with a special forces group and the CIA. We don’t know what the objective is yet, but we’ll be filled in during transport out of Washington.
I hate to leave Rachel, not only because I’m going to miss her, but also because I worry about her. Everything has been fine since the spotting a few weeks ago, and our sex life is as active as ever. Rachel has even appeared more settled since my parents’ visit last week, and I like the routine we’re in.
I’m still staying at Rachel’s each night. She’s not asked me to leave, and I’ve not offered. I merely go to my house every few days to do laundry and check my mail.
As Rachel ties her last lace, I ask, “Mind if we do takeout or something easy tonight? I’ve got a ton of stuff to do to get ready for the trip.”
“I want to keep the baby,” Rachel blurts as she stands up. If she had a feather in her hand, she could have knocked me over with it.
Her cheeks pinken with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to just say it like that. But I couldn’t quite figure out how to bring it up.”
My shocked senses are having a hard time catching up to what she’s saying. “When did you decide this?”
She gives a tiny shrug, crossing her arms protectively over her belly. “If I’m honest, that day I was spotting. I just think it took this long for me to admit it out loud.”
“This is huge,” I murmur as I step into her. I pull her arms away from her torso, and then lay my hand over the spot where our little orange is hibernating. “Are you sure?”
She nods effusively, but her voice is still wary. “Will you stay here if I do this? Don’t go to Nebraska. I’d really like to stay on at Jameson, and this means you could as well. But I don’t know how set you are about going back home now. I mean… your parents are awesome times ten, so why wouldn’t you want to go there?”
I shake my head. “I’d rather stay at Jameson. Here in Vegas. With you.”
Special emphasis in my head on the “with you,” but I don’t push that just yet. It’s enough that Rachel wants to raise the baby with me.
It’s a decision I knew she’d get right in the long run.
“When you get back from this trip to Egypt, we’ll have the ultrasound where we find out the baby’s gender. I thought we could maybe decide how to decorate the nursery then. Maybe go out shopping for some things.”
I have to control myself.
Because in this moment, I want to let out a whooping holler, pick Rachel up, and spin her around. She’s grabbed onto this baby thing by the horns, and I couldn’t be happier. All the things I thought I’d have to do on my own now can be done with a partner beside me.
“Sure,” I say casually. “That would be a lot of fun. And a name. We’d be able to start talking about a name.”
“I’m partial to Keegan,” she says.
“And I’m not,” I say without any hesitation.
“Asher?”
“Nope.”
“Evan?”
“Fuck no.”
“Logan?”
“Just shoot me now,” I groan in mock misery, and then I grin at her. “Okay, maybe Logan isn’t so bad. But you know, it could be a girl.”
“It’s a boy,” she says, and her confidence in the prediction has not weakened in the slightest.
“Come on.” I put my arm around her and turn her toward the door. “Let’s go figure out something for dinner, let me start some laundry so I can get packed, and then we can argue about it while we eat.”
“Deal,” she says with a laugh. As we walk out of the doctor’s office, I realize I’m not quite sure I’ve ever been this happy.
Yes, a lot of it has to do with the fact I can stop worrying about Rachel and how a bad decision could have ruined her. I can also rejoice in the fact I can stay on at Jameson.
But mostly, I’m happy that things will continue between Rachel and me. I sure as hell don’t want to give her up, and I’m hopeful she’s feeling the same.
That’s a discussion for another time.
For now, I’ll just be happy.