Her cheeks flushed. “Oh.” She blinked rapidly. “Oh. She thinks we’re together. That’s crazy.”
“It’s not crazy. I’m here at the appointment with you. Of course she thinks I’m your baby daddy.”
The flush on her cheeks darkened and she narrowed her eyes. “Say that phrase again and I’ll cut out your tongue. Now turn around so I can get undressed.”
I obliged, spinning toward the wall. A row of posters hung at eye-level. I focused every brain cell I had on those posters—and not Chloe getting naked—like there would be a test on it. The middle poster was a fetal growth chart that compared the baby to a type of fruit. Chloe’s fetus was probably the size of a radish. Next to the chart were hazy photos of sleeping babies dressed as flowers and, disturbingly, salads. Jesus fucking Christ. What kind of parent allowed this shit to happen?
There was a telltale rustle of paper and squeak of vinyl as Chloe got situated. “Okay, you can turn around,” she said.
I shifted to face her. Chloe sat at the edge of the examination table, her legs dangling between the stirrups and crossed at the ankles, the paper gown drawn tight across her chest. She lookednervous. And then her gaze fell on the posters behind me and her expression changed to downright appalled.
“Are they promoting cannibalism?” she wondered.
“Maybe that’s why they compare fetus size to fruit.”
“It’s creepy,” she said.
I was going to have nightmares about it. “Promise me you will never put your baby on a bed of lettuce. I don’t want you to get confused.”
She choked out a horrified laugh. “I’m not going to eat my baby, Steven.”
“Not on purpose,” I agreed.
“I don’t even like salad. The risk is very low.” She paused, her gaze going to middle distance. “Although now I kind of want one. With lots of Caesar dressing.”
I bent down and whispered to her lap, “You hear that, Radish? Your mom wants a salad. Better stay inside where it’s safe. Hold on tight, okay?”
Chloe made an odd sort of honking sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “You are so weird, Steven.”
But she looked at me like that wasn’t a bad thing.
And there it was again, that feeling of nostalgia for something that hadn’t ever happened, that would never happen. How could I ache for something that had never been real to begin with?
The knock on the door startled us both. I back up three quick steps, putting space between us.
“Come in,” Chloe said, her voice hoarse.
“Hi, there.” Dr. Davidson entered with Renee right behind her. She was a petite woman with a bouncy red ponytail and a warm smile that instantly put me at ease. “It’s good to see you again, Chloe, although I have to admit, never in a million years would I have expected to see you under these circumstances. Congratulations.”
Chloe’s cheeks reddened. “Thank you. It was definitely a surprise.”
Dr. Davidson tilted her head. “A happy one, I hope?” When Chloe nodded, she smiled. “Good. So, here’s what we’re going to do. Your vitals look good, so I’m going to do a quick pelvic exam. Then, because of your history, I want to do a transvaginal ultrasound to rule out ectopic pregnancy. Is that all right with you?”
Chloe nodded.
“Great.” Dr. Davidson patted Chloe’s knee and took a seat on the rolling stool. “You know the drill. Lie down and slide your butt all the way to the edge. Feet in the stirrups.”
I shoved my hands in my pockets. Chloe’s clothes were in a folded pile on the only other chair in the room, so I just stood there, feeling like I was in the way.
“Steven.” Chloe stared daggers at me. “You are not going to watch Dr. Davidson put her hand up my vagina. Get over here by my head.”
Dr. Davidson chuckled as I leaped forward. “Must be your first time, too.”
“Yeah,” I said sheepishly.
“Don’t worry. First-time dads are always a little awkward about everything. Women’s bodies are such a mystery to men that sometimes I wonder how the human species still exists.”
“He’s not the dad,” Chloe corrected. “He’s just…”Friendwould have been the obvious choice, but she didn’t say it. “Steven.”
