Page 30 of Forget It

“Do I—do I take my clothes off?”

He glances at me with a wry smile. “I’m new here too, baby.”

The casual endearment is barely enough to distract me from my nerves. What’s more embarrassing? The midwife asking me to take my clothes off or greeting her stark naked?

Clothes on, I think.

I take a deep breath as I fidget with my fingers. My feet barely touch the floor on the bed so I swing them mindlessly.

Jackson peruses the artwork before coming to my side, resting his hand on my knee and stilling it.

I’m quickly getting used to his absentminded contact. Each time he reaches for me, my heart rate speeds up and calms down at the same time, like the most intoxicating drug.

His thumb rubs across the seam of my jeans, his fingers sliding between my thighs

Instead of my own twiddling fingers, I stare at his. Tan skin and prominent veins, the hint of a tattoo peeking out the bottom of his sleeve. I stop myself from tugging the material back so I can assess them all. I haven’t been able to take inventory of all of his tattoos yet, but I’m itching to. How many does he have? Twenty? Thirty? Where are they all? How many have I had a glimpse of? I can’t stop my finger from gently tracing the ink, lightly fingering the edge of his sleeve.

I hear Jackson suck in a low breath before the door opens and an older woman with a cheerful smile enters, her blonde bob bouncing around her shoulders. She’s matronly, exactly as I’d expect a midwife to look.

“Hello there, my name is Christine and I’ll be your midwife today. It’s lovely to meet you Rosalie.” She offers her hand and I remove mine from Jackson’s.

“Rosie.” I shake her hand. “And this is Jackson. He’s the—y’know.”

Jackson leans forward for her hand.

“Oh, I already knew you were here. The girls at reception have already talked my ear off about you.” She says with a warm smile, “But don’t worry, we’re very discreet.”

“I appreciate that, Christine. Trying to fly as under the radar as possible.”

“You got it.” Christine assures him before turning to me.

“So Rosie.” She pulls out a clipboard, “I’m just going to check your blood pressure and ask you some questions if that’s okay.”

“Yeah sure,” I say, pulling my sleeve up.

Christine slides the blood pressure cuff up my arm. “When was your last period?”

“Uh, May sometime.” Christine nods and writes it down in her notebook.

I shift in my seat, “The uh-conception was the 24th June.”

Christine doesn’t look up from her notebook, “That’s great, love, but I don’t need to know that. We go from the date of your last period.”

I blush as Jackson chuckles softly beside me.

“You’ll be around twelve weeks. Perfect, we can go ahead with the scan now. If you lean back on the chair and lift your shirt above your tummy. Dad, you can go around that side for the best view.”

Jackson stands frozen for a few seconds before he jumps into motion. “Yep, that’s me.”

Dad.

Whoa.

Swinging my legs onto the bed, I hike my shirt up. I ignore the awkwardness of Jackson seeing my belly. It looks mostly the same as usual, if with maybe the slightest curve indicating there’s something in there other than bread.

I can’t help but let my hand cover the exposed skin as I wait for Christine to prepare the ultrasound wand.

I turn my head away from Jackson’s, pretending to be engrossed in Christine’s fascinating process of sliding gloves on and clicking buttons on the computer.

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