My jaw drops and my face turns the shade of the ripest tomato. “You… oh my gosh. I can’t with you right now!”
“What? It’s an honest question! You just said that you panicked and I walked in to see you holding your vibrator to your chest. What am I supposed to think?”
“I was using it to maim whoever had broken into my house!”
His lip twitches. “To what now?”
“Maim! Hurt! Destroy! I don’t have actual weapons and this was the first thing I thought to grab.”
“Let me get this straight. You think your house has been broken into and the first thing you think of is grabbing your vibrator. You didn’t want to leave it behind, huh?”
“Well, when you put it like that, it just sounds silly.”
“And how else am I supposed to put it?”
I groan. He’s not letting this go and I don’t think I’ve ever been more embarrassed in my life. “Can we just forget this ever happened ‘cause that’d be great.”
He shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest, planting his feet wide. “Not a chance. This was amazing. Tell me, does your brave vibrating defender have a name? Does it perform super powers that I’m not aware of to fend off evil-doers?”
I take a step closer and point up at him. Now would be a good time to suddenly sprout twelve inches so I can look him in the eye rather than crane my neck and try to look intimidating that way. “I don’t like you anymore.”
“It has a name,” he guesses.
Is stomping my foot considered immature? Probably.
“You don’t know.”
“It does. Tell me.”
“Nik! Be nice.”
“You love it. Now.” he drops his arms and takes a step toward me, so close the tips of our feet are touching and I can feel his breath against my skin. “Why don’t you tell me the name of our newfound toy here?”
Mustering up as much courage as I have, I decide if he’s going to be a stinker — which means our child obviously takes after him — then I can be, too.
I pull up every good comeback from childhood to adulthood that I can think of and say, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
Okay.
Well.
That wasn’t as awesome as I had planned.
He knows it.
I know it.
But maybe he’ll let it slide.
At the risk he isn’t going to, I flash him a boob, cover myself back up, and go to the restroom to get ready for my doctor’s appointment.
Behind me, I can practically hear him gaping.
“That was just mean!”
Smiling to myself in the mirror, I notice something about me that I haven’t seen reflected in a long time.
Happiness.
Scary as it may be, I know that Nik is a huge reason for that.
Maybe he’ll be getting his wish sooner rather than later and I’ll cave, wanting the world to know he’s mine and I’m his.
Or, maybe we’ll continue to keep it to ourselves and enjoy the ride.
It’s sure been fun so far.
“Okay, Ashley, Nik, I know you’re anxious for this.”
“You could say Ashley’s vibrating with excitement,” Nik says and I elbow him in the side. Actually, I elbow the air because I’m lying down on the exam table and he’s sitting closer to my stomach.
Luckily, Dr. Fletcher doesn’t seem to notice. And if she did, she wouldn’t have a clue what we were talking about anyway. Or, rather, what Nik is talking about. I can tell he has a million questions rolling around in that gorgeous head of his.
“This morning she was moving around the house, practically pulsating from her eagerness to come.” My eyes almost bug out of my head and Nik sits calm as can be, watching Dr. Fletcher do her thing, squirting the warm goo onto my stomach and rubbing it around with the Doppler.
She nods in understanding. “It’s always exciting. Let’s hope the baby cooperates this time.”
“Let’s hope,” I say, trying not to clench my jaw.
I wish I could say that I hated the way Nik’s acting. But the truth of it is, he was right before. I love it. The teasing and playfulness is what makes Nik, Nik, and that’s more than all right with me.
Once we hear the baby’s heartbeat, something that never gets old, we both quiet down, holding hands and staring at the screen. That’s also something that never gets old. Seeing our baby.
“So amazing,” Nik mutters. “He’s inside there, so perfect and healthy and happy. Ready for us to screw him up,” he adds, jokingly.
“Boy, huh? You’re going with my theory?”
He shrugs. “Seems right. Look.” He points to the screen at something that could be an arm, a leg, a stick. Heck, how do we know? We aren’t doctors or ultrasound techs.
“That is not his…”
“Oh yes, it is,” Dr. Fletcher explains. “Congratulations, you two. You’re having a boy.”
“We’re having a boy,” I repeat, stupid tears building once again. I feel like that’s all I do sometimes. That and eat.
I guess the baby and I should get along great then. Eat. Cry. Poop. I do that, too.
“We’re having a boy!” Nik practically shouts, making both Dr. Fletcher and I laugh.
“I take it this is good news?”
He looks a little sheepish for his outburst. “Hey, I was beyond happy that the baby was healthy. The fact that I know what to do with his parts when it’s my turn to change his diaper is a huge bonus.”
“Well, you’re in good hands, there, Mama. If he’s already talking about changing diapers, you found yourself a good one.”
Nik beams and I roll my eyes.
“Oh, brother. Don’t stroke his ego. He’s confident enough as it is.”
Dr. Fletcher shakes her head, laughing at the two of us. While she has been doing the ultrasound, she also clicked a few buttons to take pictures and print them out.
Once she’s finished, she wipes my stomach clean of the goo, hands the pictures to us, and leaves us alone.
I’m still lying back on the table, but this time I’m staring up at pictures of my son. We have them from his first ultrasound, too, but this time it feels different. Maybe simply because now I know without a doubt that it’s a boy? I’m not sure.
“Amazing,” Nik says beside me, looking at the pictures, too.
“It really is.”
“Julius is still off the table. So is Fraser.” He stands up and helps me from the table, too.
“I wasn’t saying anything.”
“I could sense it. You were looking at the pictures and thinking names. I’m not naming my child after an Outlander character or your favorite orange drink when you went to the mall as a kid.”
“You’re so boring! You probably want to name him like George or something.”
“First of all, George is a fine name. It’s classic for a reason. But no, I’d think of him like Curious George, the monkey, and that’s not going to work. Second of all, yeah, I do want a boring name.” His lips twist and he amends, “Not boring so much as strong. Timeless. A name that’s lasting and can be carried down to the next generation if he chooses. More traditional without being dull.”