Page 51 of Savage Proposal

“He can come,” Isabella interrupted her.

“If you don’t really want him there, I can keep him out.”

Isabella pasted on a smile. “I do,” she said. “He is the baby’s father, and I want him to be able to see the ultrasound.”

The nurse didn’t look happy, but she nodded. “Of course.” She motioned for us to follow her, and we ended up in a room that looked near-identical to the one that Isabella and I met in, with the addition of infographics about uteruses and fetal growth.

Isabella sat on the exam table while the nurse asked her innocuous questions about her monthly cycle and which test she took while she strapped the blood pressure cuff around her upper arm. Once all of the preliminary paperwork was completed, the nurse picked up Isabella’s chart. “Dr. Coleman is in with another patient, but he will be in soon.”

“Thank you,” she murmured.

The nurse left, and we were alone again. Isabella looked at me, as if she had something to say, but then her eyes shifted and focused on the floor. “You could have tried to bar me from coming in with you,” I said.

She shrugged. “What’s the point in that?” she asked. At my scoff, she got angry. “What do you expect me to say?” she snapped. “That I want you here? I don’t, and you know it.” She crossed her arms over her chest, holding herself like she was afraid that she would shake apart. “When I pictured this moment growing up, it was always so soft, and I always pictured myself so excited for what was to come.” Her hands touched her stomach, like it was already becoming a habit, and I hated how pretty she looked.

Unbidden, the image of her belly round with my baby came to mind, and I would not get hard in a goddamn doctor’s office.

“Idealism makes people foolish.”

She glared at me. “How is it ‘idealism’ to want to start a family? I would argue that’s one of the most commonplace things that adults do every day.”

“The divorce rate is north of sixty-five percent,” I spat back. “All those kids from those families are left in fucked up, broken situations. Why would anyone bother to take a risk like that?”

“You did,” she said. “Once.”

My hands tightened into fists and Isabella noticed. Her skin became pallid. “Don’t speak about what you don’t know.”

She opened her mouth, and closed it again. And then: “Why do you even want a baby?”

“I don’t.”

Isabella sputtered. “Then why are we doing this?”

“It’s none of your business,” I said. “Your job is to carry my child to the best of your ability, not question my motives.”

“If you think I’m going to just?—”

There was a knock at the door, and Isabella’s jaw snapped shut. “Come in,” I called for her.

Dr. Coleman opened the door with the nurse from before hot on his heels. She filled him in on Isabella’s vitals and all the other information that she’d attained. Dr. Coleman looked at the chart himself, made some humming noises, and then looked at Isabella. “You got a positive pregnancy test?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He clapped his hands together once. It was a loud, booming sound, and Isabella nearly jumped three feet into the air. “Congratulations, you’re pregnant.”

I wasn’t impressed. “That’s it? You don’t need to do a test here?”

“Our tests are nearly identical to the ones you get at the grocery store,” he explained. “We could do a blood panel, but those results would take a day or two to come back.”

“I want an ultrasound.”

“Please,” Isabella added. “I took a test weeks ago that was negative, but I never had my period after that. I want to know for certain.”

Dr. Coleman was at a loss, but he agreed, nonetheless. They all moved to the ultrasound suite at the end of the hallway, and the tech had Isabella sit on another exam table. She pulled her shirt up and wriggled her jeans down so that the tech could tucka cover into the waistband. “This will be a little cold,” the tech said absently, like she had already said it a dozen or more times today.

She squirted a blob of blue gel onto Isabella’s belly, and then pressed the ultrasound wand directly into it, swirling the gel around as she went. “There’s your uterus,” she said and pointed to the screen. “And there’s the egg sack.”

“Does that mean?—?”

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