16. Vik
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
vik
“You know,” I start, taking in the sterile, crisp scent of the exam room that fills my nostrils.
Christ, the smell is not all that great.
I take my seat in the hard plastic chair beside the exam table, grasping Romy’s warm hand in mine.
“We could have circumvented this entire wait game weeks ago. One phone call to the chief of medicine, a private blood panel, and the results would have been emailed to us within the hour.”
“Hush, Vik.” She doesn’t look my way, only stares at the blank monitor of the ultrasound machine, a small, stubborn smile playing at the corner of her lips.
“I’m serious, beautiful. I don’t see why we needed to wait. I have all this money. What better way to use it than to our advantage?”
“Because I love Dr. Charles, I love this clinic, and that’s all that matters,” Romy says teasingly, cutting her green eyes toward me and giving my hand a light squeeze.
“Besides, we settled on a house this past weekend. A real house, with a yard, ground level, but with a hefty price tag that I didn’t agree with. Don’t push your luck.”
“I’m not pushing anything.” I let out a low rumble of laughter, my gaze shifting down her body.
It’s incredibly hard to take her threat seriously right now.
Romy is sitting slightly propped up on the paper-lined table, her top tucked up and under her bra, exposing her beautiful, rounded abdomen of her twenty-week pregnancy.
“I’m just saying. Patience has never been my strong suit. ”
“Clearly, because who moved up the closing date by offering above asking price in order for us to be in our home within seventy-two hours since first seeing it?”
“Are you complaining?” I follow up her question with one of my own.
The penthouse is already sold. Her apartment is still in her name, and she’s keeping it as an office until her lease ends.
Which means I have less than three months to convince her to use one of the empty spaces on my floor as her office.
I’d much prefer her in my own building with me, but even I know my limits.
“Well, no. I do love our home even though we still have the whole financials to discuss.” She rolls her eyes before saying, “Some things are worth waiting for. Aren’t you excited to find out this way?”
“I’m excited just to look at you,” I counter, dropping my hand to press my palm flat against the bare skin of her stomach. The contrast of my large, tanned hand against her soft, pale skin is a reminder of how entirely wrapped up in Romy I’ve become. “But yes, I want to know who’s in there.”
Before she could answer, there’s a light knock and the door swings open with a soft click. A young ultrasound technician walks in carrying a tablet.
“Hi, there, I’m Tara. Ready to see what’s happening today?” she asks cheerfully, setting her tablet down beside the machine. She goes about preparing what needs to be prepared, my eyes watching the entire process.
“More than ready,” Romy says, her voice catching slightly with what I can assume is a sudden wave of nerves. I shift closer, my arm rubbing against hers, ensuring she feels my presence.
“You okay?” I murmur near her ear.
“Yeah,” she replies, taking a deep breath and looking up at me. “It’s a big day.”
“I’ve got you,” I promise. Tara clicks a few buttons on her keyboard and dims the overhead lights.
“Alright, Romy. This gel is a little bit warm, and you’ll feel a little bit of pressure from the probe.
” She squeezes a thick dollop of the clear gel on the center of Romy’s abdomen.
Tara then grabs the wand, moving it around the goop in slow, sweeping circles on her skin.
The monitor comes to life. Grainy shadows begin to shift and dance on the screen.
I have no idea what any of it means, until Tara presses a button, and a loud sound fills the quiet room.
I’ve heard our child’s heartbeat before with the small doppler Dr. Charles uses at every appointment, but this is the first time I’m hearing it while seeing it at the same time.
Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump.
The sheer magnitude of the sound, the raw proof of the life we’re creating together, it threatens to completely unman me.
“Look at that.” Romy let’s out a shaky breath on a whisper, “There he or she is.”
“Yeah,” I scrape out, my voice rough, my eyes darting between the monitor and the woman beside me.
“I’m getting the standard measurements out of the way.
” Tara’s fingers fly across the keyboard, during which she is quiet for a few minutes, clicking her mouse, freezing the image to draw dotted lines across the screen.
“Checking the femur length and the head circumference.
Everything is looking right on track for your gestation period.
“Is everything else okay? The heart?” I ask. There’s no corporate authority in my tone now, it’s sheer protectiveness and instinct of a father. A new concept considering I’ve spent my whole adult life thinking it’s the last thing I’d want.
“Perfect,” Tara reassures us, turning the wand slightly.
“Strong and steady. Now, let’s see if your little one wants to cooperate today.
” The room goes silent, minus the heartbeat of our child in the background.
Tara moves the probe down toward the base of Romy’s pelvis, and the image on the screen shifts, showing a clear cross-section of a tiny, perfectly formed spine, two little legs kicking slightly against the darkness.
“You see those three little lines right there? Congratulations, you’re having a girl. ”
A girl.
A sudden wave of emotion slams into my gut, so intense it nearly knocks the wind out of me.
A little girl. A daughter. A mini-version of the breathtaking beauty sitting right beside me.
Romy’s hand squeezes mine with an incredible strength.
I look over at her. Tears are already spilling over her lashes, tracing hot, wet paths down her flush cheeks, her lips parting in a silent, overwhelming sob of pure happiness.
“A girl,” she chokes out, her eyes shining in the semi-dark room. “Vik, a little girl.”
“A girl,” I echo, my voice completely wrecked.
“I’ll let you two have a moment while the printer catches up,” Tara says gently, wiping the excess gel off Romy’s belly with a handful or paper towels before leaving the room.
The moment the door clicks shut, I lean over the table, my hand framing Romy’s face, thumbs sweeping the warms tears streaming down her cheeks.
I bring my mouth down to hers, kissing her with a fierce intensity of love, devotion, and admiration I have inside me.
It’s not gentle, it’s a claiming, a validation of everything we’ve fought for in this room.
Her tongue tangles with mine as I hold her in place, taking over the kiss, wanting to take this a fuck of a lot further, except we’re in a damn doctor’s office.
“You know,” I mutter, a low wicked grin breaking through the heavy emotion. I pull back once we’re both breathless, my forehead resting against Romy’s. Her eyes are shimmering with tears. “Rafe was wrong.”
“What? What the hell are you talking about, and why are you thinking about Rafe right now?” She blinks, confusion written all over her face.
“Because,” I growl softly, my eyes dropping to her lips while licking my own and tasting her flavor.
“He swore up and down that this old wives’ tale he heard about is true.
The man swears if you make sure your woman comes first before the man gets off, it means you’ll have a boy.
Clearly, that shit is wrong, and thank god for that. ”
“Vik! You did not talk to Rafe about our sex life!” Her jaw drops slightly, a bright, beautiful flush creeping up from her neck to stain her cheeks.
“I can assure you, Rafe, nor anyone else, knows what happens behind closed doors.” My grin widens as I lean down to press a soft, lingering kiss to the tip of her nose.
“Alright, but speaking of Rafe, have you noticed Dante making eyes at Alex? What’s all that about, hmm?
” I shake my head, my hands sliding down to rest on the warm curve of her bare hips, sliding my finger along the hem of her pants and underwear.
Dante has spent the last decade earning himself a reputation as a ladies’ man.
He’s the king of non-committal, charming his way through the night and slipping out before sunrise.
Until recently. Lately, every time Alex walks into a room, Dante’s entire demeanor shifts.
The slick, easy smiles evaporate, replaced with a laser-focused glare that looks more like a predator realizing he finally found something or someone worth keeping.
“Got not one single clue,” I lie smoothly, leaning down to steal another quick kiss before pulling my hands away from her sweet-as-sin curves before I take this further. “Why don’t you ask him tomorrow when we have everyone over?”
“Oh, I am absolutely going to. If Dante’s bachelor days are finally numbered, I want a front row seat to watch him burn.” Her eyes dance with mischief.
“Poor bastard isn’t going to see this coming. Let’s get out of here,” I say just as a knock on the door greets us. Tara walks in, goes straight to the ultrasound machine, pulls the pictures out, hands them to us, and then escorts us out to arrange Romy’s next appointment.