MYLA ROSE
Today’s the day—my sixteen-week appointment, and hopefully, I’ll get to find out if I’m having a boy or a girl. I should be overflowing with excitement, but my attitude is still a bit sour from how last weekend ended.
I know I need to move on and get over it. The fact that I care, that I’ve been stewing over it for this damn long, really irks me.
According to the girls, I’ve been a straight-up bitch. As far as Seraphine goes, I've chalked it up to hormones. No reason to have both of them on my case about my knickers being in a knot over Cash Carson.
I mean, Lord have mercy, who does he think he is, flirting with me and kissing me like that when he's not really interested? Men are nothing but jerks, all of them.
Though, if I’m honest, it’s all too easy to get caught up in him. With the way he says all the right things—you know, aside from apologizing after our kiss—and the feel of his strong arms around me, with his lips hot on mine and his all-male scent swirling around me like a haze. It’s a lethal combination, one that had those foolish thoughts of mine flaring right back to life.
Well, no thank you. I’m gonna stick those thoughts right back up on the shelf, where they belong. He made me feel like a damn fool after our kiss, cementing the fact that those feelings were clearly one-sided.
"Myla Rose McGraw.” The nurse calls my name.
Gathering up my purse, I head over to where she’s waiting. “Yes, ma’am, that’s me.”
“How are you today, dear?” she inquires as she escorts me to the ultrasound room.
“I’m doin’ fine—excited for this appointment!”
“I bet you are. Go ahead and hop up on the table and lift your top. The ultrasound tech should be joining us any minute.”
I do as she tells me, and sure enough, by the time I’m comfy, the tech is here and ready to get started.
She has kind blue eyes and introduces herself as Belinda. After squirting some of the warm gel onto my stomach, she begins pushing around the wand, making notes and taking measurements as she goes.
“Are you finding out the gender today?”
“Yes, ma’am.” My voice comes out a bit louder than this small space calls for. “I would love to know.”
“All right, let’s see what we have here then.” She begins to move the wand and press on my abdomen. This goes on for what feels like an eternity, and I’m quickly losing hope that I’ll find out today. I’m working on firming up my resolve to wait another month to find out when she blurts out, “It’s a boy!”
She shows me on the screen, and goodness gracious, is she right. My little man is showing it all off, proud as a peacock. I’m overcome with emotion, tears of joy streaming down my face. I’m getting my little prince after all. I’m so high on cloud nine, nothing can bring me down.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Belinda asks, softly giving my arm a little squeeze.
“Oh! Yes, ma’am, I’m just so-so-so happy.”
“Oh, good. I hate seeing mothers disappointed. A healthy baby is the real goal here." She smiles before telling me that I can head back out to the waiting room because Dr. Mills isn't quite ready for me.
Back in my chair, I flip through the ultrasound images Belinda gave me before digging my phone out of my purse to call Azalea with the news. Lord knows, she’ll kill me if she isn’t the first to know.
“It’s a beautiful day at Southern Roots! This is Seraphine, how may I assist you today?” Her creative greetings always amuse me.
“Well, hello there, Seraphine. Is Azalea with a client?”
“Myla Rose! Did you find out? Do you know? Hang on, I’ll go grab her!” I hear her drop the phone to the desk without putting me on hold, and within a few seconds, they are both yelling into the receiver. “Myla, we put you on speaker. Now, did you find out? Do you know?”
“I do.” I let my words linger.
“Are you gonna tell us?” AzzyJo barks.
“Yup.” I keep on with the short answers just to ruffle her feathers.
“Myla Rose, you tell us right this instant, or I’ll—” her threat is cut off by the nurse calling me back to finish the rest of my appointment.
“Sorry, sister-girl, they just called me back. I’ll have to tell y’all later!” I end the call and chuck my phone back into my bag before she can start griping at me.
After the dreaded weigh-in at the nurses' station, I’m led to an exam room to wait on Dr. Mills. I’m sitting on the table giggling softly to myself at the flurry of text notifications from Azalea and Seraphine when there’s a soft knock. “Come in,” I call through the door.
“Good morning, Ms. McGraw. I presume you and baby are well? According to the ultrasound notes, the little tyke is right on track.” He always makes a point to ask about the baby, and not necessarily in a doctor way. Sometimes, it’s in a more concerned way. He never gets too personal, but I can tell from his tone of voice that he wants to know more about his grandson, so I always try to offer up little tidbits here and there.
“Yes sir, we are. I’m so excited for a little boy.”
“Good, good. I–I’m glad to hear that.” His voice is soft, almost wistful. I know he cares about this baby, even if his wife and son don’t. “Lie back now, please, and I’ll take some measurements and then we can listen for the heartbeat.” I follow his instructions, and he goes about his work in silence.
“All right, Ms. McGraw, you’re measuring right at 16 weeks. Let’s take a listen to baby’s heartbeat.”
More warm gel, and then the small exam room is filled with a swooshing sound, the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard—my little man’s heartbeat. My eyes once again fill with tears, and with a quick glance at the good doctor, I see his have, too. It’s moments like this when I truly want to hate Taylor for not being involved. How he cannot love this baby is beyond me. Dr. Mills may not be the most affectionate man, but his heart is good. It’s a damn shame Taylor didn’t take more after him.
“Sounds good, 135 beats per minute.” He rolls over to his desk and hands me a towel to wipe off the goo, discreetly wiping his eyes before extending a hand to help me sit back up. “Do you have any questions for me today?” he asks as he enters notes on the computer.
“Um, yes sir. I do.” He swivels around to face me with an arched brow. “Is it a pregnancy thing to have weird dreams?” I stare at the wall behind him, embarrassed by my silly question.
“Oh, yes. Yes, Ms. McGraw. It’s from your increased hormone levels. Nothing to worry about. Anything else?” I shake my head no. “All right then, please have them schedule four weeks from now, and be sure to call if you have any questions.”
He stands and leaves the room, and I follow quickly behind. I’m sure the girls are losing their minds waiting on me.
Deciding to take a page from AzzyJo’s book, I want to get creative with telling the girls I’m having a boy, so I make a quick trip to Sprinkles, our local cupcake shop.
On the drive over, I call the store and ask them if they can whip up what I’m wanting on short notice, and they assure me they can. Fifteen minutes later, I’m out the door and on my way to Southern Roots, cupcakes and all.
Walking into the salon, I head straight for the dispensary, gesturing for Seraphine to tag along. She holds up one long, slender finger to let me know she’ll be a minute. I place the cupcake box down onto the table in front of Azalea, next to the salad she's picking at.
She arches one perfectly sculpted brow as if to say, What the hell, Myla? Huh, guess she didn’t appreciate my hanging up on her earlier. Oops. My smile stretches from ear-to-ear, showing every bit of the amusement I’m feeling.
“Having a good day?” I ask her.
“If you don’t tell me what that baby is right this cotton pickin’ minute, I’ll—"
“Hush up and open the box,” I tell her, nodding toward where it sits on the table.
Seraphine walks in right as she flips back the lid to reveal a half-dozen cupcakes iced in different shades of blue. Azalea’s eyes are as big as dinner plates between the cupcakes and me.
“Does this mean what I think it means?”
Seraphine peeks over my shoulder into the box before turning to look at me, anxious for my reply.
“Yes, it’s a boy!” I shout. The next thing I know, they both have their arms wrapped snuggly around me, murmuring their congratulations.
“We have to start plannin’ your shower now, Myla Rose!” Azalea insists. “Oh, and we need to get you registered too!” She lets out a loud squeak and gives my shoulders a tight squeeze. “I’m just so excited! I’m getting a nephew! Have you told Drake and Simon?”
Seraphine excuses herself back to the front desk when the salon phone rings. She's young, but a hard worker—and I'm damn sure glad she's a part of my tribe.
“No.” I scoff. “Like I’d be dumb enough to tell anyone before you! I value my life, thank you very much. Plus, I think I want to surprise them. I just need to figure out how.”
“Ooh! Let me think on that. I know we’ll come up with something good. Anyway, Drake said we could have your shower at his house. I won’t tell him it’s a boy or anything, but I’ll go ahead and get with him to start plannin’.”
“You sure y’all can handle that?” I ask her, fighting to conceal my grin. Those two are a hot mess.
“What is that supposed to mean? Are you implyin’ that I’m incapable of handling Drake-freaking-Collins?”
“Oh, I’m sure you’d love to handle him,” I tell her with an impish grin.
“Don’t you start, Myla. I swear to high heavens.” She rolls her eyes as she tosses her cupcake wrapper into the trash.
“Not startin’ a thing, Az. I’m just saying.”
“Yeah? Well, don’t.” She’s smiling though, so I know she isn’t really mad at me. “Call me tonight, and we can talk about everything for your shower, okay?”
“You know I will,” I tell her as we head out to the main area of the salon.
Seraphine is finishing up a call when we hit the reception area. “I’ll talk to the girls, ‘kay, Mags? I’ll let you know in a day or two, I promise,” she says before replacing the phone in its cradle.
I shoot Azalea a quizzical look, which she mirrors right back at me. “Well, ladies, I might have some good news,” Seraphine tells us, and we both wait for her to elaborate. “That was my cousin, and she’s moving to Dogwood soon. Like real soon. Anyway, she was a hairstylist back in South Carolina, and I think she’d be a perfect fit here.” She rips a piece of paper from the notepad in front of her and hands it to Azalea. “I wrote down her info for y’all to look over.”
“Myla, we have to call her!” she exclaims.
“Have to? Why?” I question, her excitement surprising me.
“Magnolia. Her name is Magnolia.” And that’s all she needs to say. I don’t even have to meet her to know she belongs here with us. Nodding my head, I tell Azalea to set up an interview with her before heading out. It’s just past lunch time, and the only thing I’ve eaten today is a cupcake. The bean and I need real food, and some chicken salad from Dream Beans sounds like perfection.