Page 24 of Deceit & Destruction

“Yeah,” Mike says as he extends his right hand to Dr. Harnette. “Sorry it’s taken me so long to get to one of these things.”

Dr. Harnette shakes Mike’s hand and offers him a smile.

“Not me you need to apologize to,” he says, then turns to me. “I hope you’re feeling better. The last few months have been hard on you.”

“I’m doing much better.”

Mike takes a seat on the other side of me, and Dr. Harnette goes over my chart. When he’s done reading through it, he grabs the probe on the sonogram machine. I lift the paper gown, revealing my bump and the cotton underwear I decided to keep on when the nurse told me to undress. Mike’s eyes rake over me as the doctor squirts the gel onto my belly. I flinch slightly at the cool sensation and that forces Mike’s gaze to lift.

“It’s cold,” I whisper.

He doesn’t say anything, but he does reach for my hand and for some reason that causes me belly to flip. The sonogram screen lights up and the sound of my baby’s heartbeat fills the room. My attention should be on the screen, but I can’t help stare at Mike, watching as his eyes go wide with wonder as he gets his first glimpse of the baby.

“Is that him?” he asks the doctor.

The doctor smiles.

“Cassie hasn’t told me if she wants to know the sex yet, so we’ll just say that’s the baby and leave you to assume whatever you want.”

My gaze slides to Dr. Harnette.

“Can you tell the sex?”

“I can,” he confirms as he moves the probe around my belly. “Would you like to know?”

I swallow hard and for some reason I turn to Mike. He gives my hand a squeeze and that’s all the reassurance I need. I turn back to Dr. Harnette and nod.

“Congratulations, mom and dad, you’re having a girl.”

Tears instantly fill my eyes as I stare at my daughter’s grainy profile.

My daughter.

I’m gonna have a daughter.

A best friend.

Someone who will love me unconditionally.

“Can I still teach her to play football?”

The tears fall from my eyes and my gaze slides to Mike. A grin works his lips, and he winks at me.

“She’s perfect,” he whispers. “Just like her mama.”

* * *

Mike isquiet when we walk out of the doctor’s office.

“Do you want me to drive you back to the apartment or are you going to class today?” I ask, breaking the silence.

He may have started his Humanities paper, but he’s been skipping classes. Webber also told me this morning Mike missed a meeting with Coach Riley.

“Do you have a name for her?”

The question startles me, and I stop walking. How did we go from me asking him where I should drop him off to questioning if I’ve chosen a name for a daughter, I just found out I’m having? But I’m learning that’s just how Mike operates. He avoids questions and discusses the things he wants to discuss.

“I haven’t thought of names,” I admit. Really, I haven’t thought of much. Like where I’m going to go when she’s born or how I’m going to juggle a newborn and school. Her name seems last on the list of priorities.

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