Chapter 36
Cassie
“I ’m nervous,” I lean across and whisper into Quinn’s ear so the other expectant mothers in the waiting room can’t hear me.
They all look like they’ve got their shit together, like they’ve done this before, or at the very least, have some clue what to expect.
They also have that wonderful pregnant glow I’ve heard so much about. The glow I currently lack.
Not surprising, really, considering Quinn had to pull over twice on the way here so I could throw up what little I’d had for breakfast, which was half a strawberry Pop-Tart and a few bites of an apple.
My body had rejected it vehemently.
“You’ll be great,” he whispers back, and then he leans in to kiss my cheek. An involuntary shiver follows .
Damn Quinn Tanner and his magical lips and his stupid sexy kisses. His lips are so soft and warm, and just like that, I want to feel his soft, warm lips on other parts of my body, not just my cheek. I want to taste his neck and suck on his earlobe. I want to make him moan my name so loud the floor vibrates.
Pregnancy hormones are crazy ass bitches because I’m sorry, but did I mention I’m horny as fuck?
And not just some of the time. All of the time.
They say that women in their first trimester usually have an increased arousal level, and I can one hundred percent vouch for that because my sex drive is currently off the charts, and all I’ve thought about doing ever since Quinn picked me up this morning is ripping his clothes off and making him come.
“Sorry, bug,” I say softly, looking down at my stomach. “I’m going to get my shit sorted by the time you arrive. I promise.”
“Bug?” he murmurs. “That’s a bit fucking cute.”
Hastily, I glance around the waiting room to make sure no one else just heard him swear because we’ve already drawn enough attention to ourselves. The receptionist almost fell off her chair when Quinn checked us in, and the fact that he’s wearing torn jeans, a sweatshirt that says “ It’s a throat punch kind of day” on the front, and heavy combat boots doesn’t help. He stands out like a sore thumb in this place where men in suits and ladies in designer maternity clothes take up most of the waiting room.
I’m currently wearing leggings, an oversized blouse, and sandals. Killing it in the fashion stakes .
“Cassandra Brooks?” a voice calls from the hallway.
I spring to my feet. “That’s me.”
Quinn stands as well, placing muscular fingers against the small of my back as we walk across the waiting room. “Your name’s Cassandra? Huh, I didn’t know that.”
I swear every set of eyes in the entire room swing our way.
I glare at him as we follow a nurse in green scrubs through a wide door into a well-lit examination room, all the while begging him to shut the hell up before he makes things even worse.
Brilliant . I’ve been knocked up by a guy who doesn’t even know my name.
“What?” he asks, looking genuinely confused. “Why are you looking at me weird? Have I got something in my teeth?”
He smiles so wide it almost looks painful.
Thankfully, we’re interrupted by the arrival of a doctor who greets us warmly, then asks me to lie down on the bed and lift my top.
“We’ll start by doing an ultrasound today,” she says. “It’s too soon to tell the sex of the baby just yet, but we’ll get to hear the heartbeat, and I can check everything is growing the way we’d expect it to be at this stage.” Slathering clear goo all over my belly, she smiles at me and gives me a sympathetic tilt of her head. “It might be a little cold to start with, but it doesn’t last long.”
“It’s fine.”
“Once we’re done here, I’ll do an internal examination.” She glances across at Quinn, who is just standing there in silent wonder. “I’ll ask you to step outside before I start the internal. It’s nothing to worry about, standard procedure. You wouldn’t believe how many fathers-to-be pass out at this stage, and I’m sorry, but my priority will always be my patient…” She suddenly pauses, looking at Quinn like she knows him from somewhere, her eyes narrowing in his direction.
Here we go.
“Anyone ever told you that you look like that guy from the last season of The Bachelor ?” she asks dryly.
Quinn just smiles and shakes his head, and I sigh with relief.
“Okay, ready?” she asks me.
“Yep,” I lie. I’m not the slightest bit ready for any of this, but…
I suddenly gasp.
Everything around me stops.
My heart pounds, but the world ceases to spin. Everything comes into sharp focus, and this all suddenly feels very real .
“Is that the heartbeat?” Quinn slides onto the chair beside the bed, linking his fingers through mine. “Is that what that sound is?”
The doctor’s eyes smile. “That’s exactly what it is. And it’s nice and strong and really steady. Everything sounds perfect.”
Quinn bends down to kiss my forehead and just like that, deep bands of warmth unfold inside me. His hair hangs in his eyes, but he doesn’t brush it back. Instead his lips find my forehead again, talking to me, and kissing me at the same time. “Listen to that, Cass. It sounds like the baby’s whispering. ”
I nod, unable to peel my eyes off the monitor.
The grainy image staring back at me doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, but the sound, the beautiful, sweet, perfect sound, it absolutely sounds like whispering.
My skin prickles in reaction to Quinn’s proximity. I can smell the clean soap from his shower this morning, and I close my eyes briefly to allow his scent to wash over me.
His voice is husky with emotion when his lips brush against the tip of my ear. “That sound is the most incredible thing I’ve ever heard. That sound is the whispers of us.”
I feel like crying when he says this because his words are the most heart-rending words I’ve ever heard spoken in all my life.
Tears flood my eyes.
This baby, our baby.
My heart squeezes tightly.
The doctor points out different things on the screen. She takes a heap of measurements, clicking the end of the probe, and pushing it into my lower abdomen at different angles.
Quinn’s gaze is almost reverent as he stares up at the monitor. “Everything look good, Doc?”
“Everything looks great.”
After a few more images from a few more angles, a couple more measurements, and some firm pressing on my very full bladder, the doctor steps back, and the machine makes a buzzing sound as it spits out a picture of the ultrasound.
She wipes the goo off my belly with a handful of paper towels. “I’d say you’re at about nine weeks gestation. If you’d like to know the gender of the baby, we can take a closer look out at your next appointment.”
Panic flutters in my belly. “I don’t think I want to find out.” I look at Quinn. “I want it to be a surprise. Do you?”
He smiles. “I want whatever you want.”