Page 37 of The Final Faceoff
Rosie moves the machine closer, grabs what is essentially a tiny condom, and rolls it onto the probe with the efficiency of someone who’s done this a thousand times. Then she squeezes a generous amount of gel onto the tip—so much that it dribbles slightly, like an overenthusiastic ice cream cone.
I stare at it. “Well, that’s not terrifying at all.”
Leif coughs to cover what is definitely a laugh. Rosie, to her credit, just smiles. “I promise, it looks way more dramatic than it feels.”
I narrow my eyes. “That’s what they all say.”
“All right, Hailey, I’m going to help position your legs to make things more comfortable.” She pulls out two cushioned straps from the sides of the table, adjusting them over my bent knees. “These will keep your legs in place so you can relax a bit more. It takes some of the work off of you.”
Relax. Sure. That’s totally what I’ll be doing while this entire nightmare unfolds.
I glance down at the straps, then at Leif, who—of course—is watching this all unfold like it’s some kind of fascinating documentary on human endurance.
“You’re still here?” I ask, my voice an octave higher than usual.
His lips twitch. “I wouldn’t miss this weird show for the world. I’m just sad that I forgot to bring snacks.”
“This is weird, don’t make it even weirder,” I hiss, ignoring his comments about the snacks.
“All right, I’m going to insert this now,” Rosie warns me. “You might feel a little pressure, but it shouldn’t be painful. Let me know if you need me to adjust anything.”
I suck in a breath and grip the edges of the table. “I have never been more aware of my existence than I am right now.”
Leif leans in slightly. “You want me to narrate something to distract you? Maybe list off the top five best burgers in New York?”
I glare at him. “If you say another word, I will rip the straps off and take you out with one of them.”
Rosie chuckles. “You’re doing great, Hailey.”
And then, suddenly?—
“There it is,” she says, turning the screen toward me.
I blink, my brain struggling to catch up.
“That little blob?” Rosie continues, pointing to the tiny, pulsing light on the monitor. “You hear that? That’s the heartbeat.”
A low, rhythmic thump fills the room, deep and certain. It’s stronger than I expected—undeniable. I squint at the screen, searching for something more, something that makes this feel less impossible. And then I see it—a tiny, curled shape, a larger head, a barely-there body.
The sound hums through me, rooting me to the moment.
“That’s . . . it?” My voice wobbles slightly, my brain struggling to connect what I’m seeing with the reality of what it is.
Rosie nods, adjusting the image. “Yep, right here. You can see the head—it’s a little bigger than the rest of the body right now because the brain is growing quickly. And these little nubs? Those are the developing arms and legs.”
I blink. “So, you’re telling me my baby looks like a gummy bear.”
Rosie chuckles. “That’s actually a great comparison. A gummy bear with a strong heartbeat.”
I exhale, staring at the screen. It doesn’t look like much yet, but somehow, it’s everything.
I thought I’d see something vague. Some amorphous blob that wouldn’t mean anything to me. But that tiny heartbeat, steady and strong—it’s real.
It’s happening.
Leif leans in beside me, closer than before, and I swear I feel the shift in the air around him. “That’s it?” His voice is softer now, quieter than I’ve ever heard it, like he’s afraid speaking too loud might shatter the moment.
Rosie nods. “That’s it.”
