“You know the drill. Pants down below your pubic bone.” Blondie flipped on the sonogram machine, clicked off the lights, and moved toward the door. “Doctor Richards is finishing up with another patient. He’ll be right in. In the meantime, you can’t use the restroom.” With that, she and her attitude walked out.
Emily sat on the edge of the table with her back to Dillon. Hands shaking, she slightly lowered the soft, stretchy cotton covering her belly. She glanced at the door, willing Gavin to open it. In the quiet room, Dillon’s breathing sounded like a tornado whirling through her ears. Deciding to wait for either the doctor or Gavin, she stilled her movements.
“You let me fuck you for over a year. Now’s not the time to start getting embarrassed.” Emily heard the smile in Dillon’s words, felt the venom lacing them. “Don’t worry. There’s no way what you look like right now could ever turn me on.”
“You’re an asshole,” she mumbled, her heart pounding.
He chuckled. “And you’re the whore who landed us all in this position. What’s worse, Emily? A whore who fucks her boyfriend’s friend or an asshole who’s making her pay for it?”
As his sickening statement crushed through her head, the door swung open. Gavin and the doctor entered from the hall. Crossing the room rapidly, Gavin was at her side in a second, his face twisted in worry. “I’m sorry,” he whispered as Emily stood and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“What happened?” she asked. She breathed in his scent, automatically calmed by his presence. She looked into his eyes, trying to keep tears from her own. “I sent you a text. You never called back.”
“I left my phone at the office and didn’t realize it until I was halfway through the city. I got caught in traffic. It was a mess.” He looked at Emily’s face, picking up that she was worried about more than his absence. Something else was there. His stomach surged, twisting with anger. He flicked his eyes to Dillon, then back to Emily. “Is everything all right?”
Emily felt him freeze as though he’d suddenly been encased in ice. She swallowed, a knot swelling in her throat. She nodded, not wanting to tell him what’d happened. Gavin was already on edge. If he thought Dillon gave her even the tiniest of dirty looks, without a doubt, there would be bloodshed in that office.
“Nothing happened?” he asked more intently, staring between her and Dillon. From the chair across the room, Dillon peered at them.
She nodded again and reached up to kiss him. Gavin sighed as her lips met his. He tried to fight off the gnawing feeling she was hiding something. A heartbeat later, he helped her onto the table, his hand smoothing over her belly as she exposed her glorious flesh. She looked at him and smiled. Warming immediately, Gavin pulled up a chair and sat next to her. As he held Emily’s hand, Gavin’s eyes locked on Dillon. He was starting to think the idea of allowing him to be present was something he’d regret forever. Fuck. This child could be his, and that asshole had no right to be here during something so joyous.
“So how’ve you been feeling, Miss Cooper?” the doctor asked, flipping through her chart. He placed the clipboard on his desk and moved toward the sink. “I see you’re still having some nausea?”
“I am. But it’s down to the evenings only now.”
“Try a hot cup of chamomile or ginger tea,” he said, washing his hands. After drying them, he padded across the room, slipped on a pair of gloves, and reached for the gel. “My wife swore on Saltine crackers when she was pregnant with all three of our boys.”
“Three boys?” Dillon leaned forward, his forearms on his knees. His mouth screwed into the faintest smirk. “I’m hoping we’re also having a boy.”
Tension from every direction dropped in the room like an atom bomb. Feeling Gavin’s hand tighten around hers, Emily whipped her head in his direction. He stared at Dillon with his mouth pressed into a rigid line, and her breath caught at the sight of Gavin’s eyes glowing like burning embers. Emily squeezed his hand, attempting to bring his attention back to her, but it didn’t work. Body bristling with noticeable rage, Gavin looked as though he was about to leap across the table.
“I love you,” she whispered.
That broke his trance. Seething, Gavin dragged his eyes from Dillon’s and focused on the reason he was there. He could do this. He would do this. He only hoped to God he would survive without killing Dillon.
The doctor cleared his throat. “Well, you’re just shy of twenty weeks. If we get some cooperation from the little one, we’ll know the sex in a few minutes.”
Calming her, the unease of the moment faded as Gavin gently stroked her hair. Emily zoned out Dillon as she zoned in on the monitor. Praying the soft, humming heartbeat swirling through the air like a sweet melody half belonged to the man next to her, Emily pulled in a deep breath as the doctor pushed his handy microphone against her abdomen.