Page 25 of The Mafia's Quintuplets

“First, you breathe.” She demonstrates exaggeratedly, coaxing a watery smile from me despite everything. “Second, we make a doctor’s appointment to confirm. Those drugstore tests are good, but you need proper prenatal care regardless of what you decide.”

The simple logic of these next steps helps restore some equilibrium. “You’re right.”

“Of course, I am.” She squeezes my hand. “And third, you know I’m with you no matter what you choose, right? Whatever you decide, I’m in your corner.”

Fresh tears threaten at her support. “I don’t even know how to reach him. He didn’t leave any contact information.”

Gisele’s expression hardens slightly. “We could try to find him. Jake knows people who go to Eclipse regularly. Maybe someone recognizes the name. Or maybe the florist would have a record of him ordering the rosebush?”

I shake my head. “Maxim might not even be his real name, and what would I say? ‘Remember our one-night stand? Surprise!’”

“If he helped create this situation, he should help deal with it,” she insists, protective anger flashing in her eyes.

“I told him I wanted just one night, no strings attached.” The irony of my own words isn’t lost on me. “He was respecting my boundaries.”

She sighs, her righteous indignation deflating somewhat. “Well, things have changed. You might feel differently once the shock wears off, and that’s okay.”

We sit in silence for several moments, the enormity of the situation sinking in. Eventually, she stands, practical as always. “I’m making you tea and toast, then we’re calling for the earliest possible doctor’s appointment.”

Left alone, I reach for my phone, opening the calendar app to count more precisely. Based on my last period and that single night with Maxim, I’d be approximately eight weeks pregnant. Still very early, so still time for all options and all decisions.

The bedroom door opens as Gisele returns with tea and dry toast on a tray. “Eat. Doctor first, decisions after.”

I manage a few bites, the simple food settling my stomach surprisingly well. “Thank you for everything.”

“That’s what family does,” she says simply, the word striking deep. Since losing my mother, Gisele has been the closest thing to family I have. Now, potentially, there will be someone else. A blood relation, a child of my own. The thought simultaneously terrifies and awes me.

* * *

Two days later,I sit in an examination room at a women’s clinic across town, deliberately choosing a facility unaffiliated with my workplace to maintain privacy. Gisele waits in the reception area, having insisted on accompanying me despite my protests that I could manage alone, but I told her to wait outside. I wanted her here, but I also felt like I had to do this alone. So many contradictory thoughts fill my head right now.

The doctor, a kind-eyed woman in her fifties named Dr. Garson, reviews my intake forms. “So you took two home pregnancy tests, both positive?”

I nod, hands clasped tightly in my lap. “Yes. It’s been six weeks since my last period…so I’d be eight weeks by LMP.”

She makes notes on her tablet. “And you’re a NICU nurse? So you understand the general process already.”

“In theory,” I confirm. “Different when it’s your own body though.”

Dr. Garson smiles warmly. “That’s always true. Let’s start with bloodwork to confirm the pregnancy and check some baseline levels, then do a transvaginal ultrasound to get a more accurate dating.”

I submit to the blood draw with professional detachment, watching my own crimson life filling small vials labeled with codes I recognize from my medical training. The nurse promises results within the hour, leaving me to change into a paper gown for the ultrasound.

Lying on the examination table, feet in stirrups, I stare at the ceiling tiles and try to quiet my racing thoughts. Dr. Garson returns with an ultrasound technician, explaining each step as they prepare the equipment. “This will feel a bit uncomfortable,” she warns as she positions the wand.

I close my eyes, focusing on my breathing through the strange pressure. A rhythmic whooshing sound fills the room as she activates the audio.

“That’s unusual,” murmurs the technician, adjusting something on the machine.

My eyelids snap open, professional alarm bells ringing. “What’s unusual?”

Dr. Garson studies the screen with intense focus, moving the wand slightly. “I’m detecting multiple heartbeats.”

“Multiple?” My voice sounds distant to my own ears. “As in twins?”

She shakes her head slowly, eyes still fixed on the monitor. “I’m counting...five distinct heartbeats.”

“Five?” The word emerges as barely a whisper. “That’s not possible.”

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