We are awakened by a buzzer, and I rub my eyes, disoriented. Harry disentangles himself from me, smiling shyly as he rises from the bed and pads to the bedroom door.
"Just wait here, Anna. I'll bring Dr. Fletcher up." With that, my baby's daddy disappears, and within a few moments, I hear the main door open and voices in the foyer. For a second time, the door opens and closes briefly, and I patiently wait, knowing what the results of all of these medical assessments will be. There's no suspense for me.
Harry and I aren't a couple, yet I'm relieved that we've agreed so easily to a decision about our tiny bean. Now we just have to forge our future.
Shit. This means he'll be in my life forever. Not just a month. I hadn't considered that having his child would mean forever. I mean, sure, it was apparent that a child was a lifelong commitment, but that commitment was to the child itself. Now I have to face the fact that the child's father will always have a presence in my world. We'll have to navigate birthdays and holidays and school. Harry's future girlfriends and wife will be part of my life. His future children will be my child's half-siblings.
There's no turning back.
Unless I change my mind about keeping it.
The pea in my pod seems to shrink away in fear from the thought in my brain.
Downstairs, the door opens and closes a third time, followed by Harry's soft steps and another person's hard-soled shoes stomping on the stairs.
My former cool disappears, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Although I know there are no other possibilities, I start to worry that the baby isn't Harry's. Maybe I'm not actually preggers. Perhaps the bun in my oven is a pseudocyesis like Tawny the cat. What if I imagined all of the symptoms and Blair didn't want to hurt my feelings by correcting me? Maybe the whole thing is a bad practical joke. The man on the stairs with Harry is going to find out my lie. Then Harry will kick me out of his home, and I'll never be allowed to see him again.
"Anna?" Harry's voice is barely above a whisper, and I open my eyes to his glorious face. He's added a hair clip to keep his bangs on top of his head, and the facial hair no longer startles me. The dimple is there but not shining brightly this afternoon. "This is David. Dr. Fletcher."
"Hi." I am suddenly shy which is not my usual state by anyone's measure.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Anna. Just call me David." His smile puts me at ease, and I can readily understand why this private doctor thing is so powerful. I wonder briefly if I could become an on-demand private vet, but I love my patients and the life I've created in my small town. I sit up on the side of the bed, blinking at the doctor. He grabs a chair from a vanity in the corner of the room and sits on it facing me.
"I'll just leave you two alone..." Harry says, starting to back out of the room.
"No, sir." My voice squeaks, and I have to clear it and repeat my thoughts. "Harry, you need to stay. Please."
His hand on the doorknob, he looks between me and the doctor. "Anna – I didn't bring him here for me. I already told you –"
"I know," I interrupt, "You could develop doubts at any moment, and I don't want that for you."
"Anna –"
"Besides," I swallow, saying the words that will assure his continued presence, "I'm scared."
Shock registers on his face. "Of what?"
"In case it escaped your notice, I'm having your baby. I came to you because I don't want to do any of this alone."
That muscle in his jaw does that thing again, and I wonder what I've said to piss him off this time. He merely nods, releases the door handle, and crosses the room to sit on the opposite edge of the bed.
Satisfied, I rotate to David who is sporting a comfortable smile that makes me instantly calmer. Whew. His bedside manner is remarkable.
"I really need to pee. I'll be right back," I announce, starting to rise from where I'm sitting on the bed, but David holds up a hand.
"Not yet please. Do you mind if I check some vitals?"
When I shake my head, he opens one of the two bags he'd brought along. I mean, I have to urinate like a horse with a bladder infection, but if this is what he wants to do first, I guess I can wait a few minutes. Withdrawing a blood pressure cuff, he attaches it to my arm before putting a stethoscope in his ears and pumping up the cuff until it's tight.
"One-twelve over fifty-six," he states, "Excellent." He records the number on some app on his phone. "Weight?"
With a glance at Harry, I reveal my true weight, adding, "But that's at least 12 pounds of baby currently, right?" It's a cheeky answer, and Harry smiles indulgently.
"Whatever you say, babe." He glances at the doctor, rolling his eyes.
"Hey! Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"That whole 'oh, she's pregnant now so we'll let her get away with it' thing."
David takes my wrist, and I glare at Harry. "Heart rate is a little fast," the doctor states, and I swivel my gaze to him, startled. "As is respiration." He releases my wrist. "Let's check those again later, shall we?" Removing a thermometer from his bag, he runs it over my forehead, nodding at whatever number appears. "Any history of abnormal smear tests?"
"No."
"Any history of heavy bleeding?"
"No."
"Diabetes?"
"No."
"Cancer?"
"No."
"Regular breast exams?"
"Yes. My doctor is my best friend. She never lets me skip any routine assessment. Gets rather pissy if I try. David, I don't mean to be rude, but I really do have to pee."
"I know. Practise your kegels. We'll get through this soon."
Harry shifts on the bed, and I wonder what he's thinking during these routine questions. I'm also starting to worry that David might want to do a pelvic exam. Which would be beyond awkward.
"Would you lie back on the bed please?"
This is it. He's going to want to do a pelvic exam, and how will I ask Harry to leave the room when I'd already told him he should stay?
David opens the second case he'd brought with him, taking out a piece of equipment and plugging it into the wall next to the bed. From the original bag, he withdraws a bottle and begins shaking it.
"Sorry, but there's no way to keep this warm. It's going to be cold."
I nod, having no idea what he's talking about. Is he preparing the lube so he can insert his hand in my vagina? While Harry watches? And I die of mortification?
"May I lift your shirt?"
Oh. Breast exam first. Harry's already seen my boobs, and I wasn't ever shy about trotting them out for him to play with. But the clinical nature of the moment feels weird. While I nod and bite my lip, David folds up my jumper and adjusts the waistband of my leggings lower.
Sure enough, the gel he squirts on my stomach is cold, and I shiver. He flips on the machine, and I realise it's a portable ultrasound. Relief washes through me. It's just an ultrasound, Anna. Jesus. Anyone would think you were some maiden in distress instead of a competent veterinarian.
David places the ultrasound on my pubic bone, and I wince at how hard he presses. Harry grasps my hand, looking between my face and the screen on the night table.
"There's your bladder. That's why I wanted you to keep it full. I can more clearly see your uterus and..."
A pulsing sound emits from the device, and I look at Harry. His face is focused and concentrated, and I smile.
"That's the heartbeat, Harry." My voice is soft, but he startles anyway, his eyes widening.
"Really?" The delighted look on his face is what I would expect if I'd offered him ice cream on a hot summer day. "Our baby has a heartbeat!"
The excitement is contagious, and my heartbeat quickens again, especially when David adjusts the probe a bit more, and I see our bean in my uterus.
"Oh, my...God," I breathe, covering my mouth with the hand that Harry isn't clenching. Tears well up in my eyes, and I can't take my eyes off of it. "It's... holy shit, Harry..."
His husky voiced "oh, my" lets me know that he's teary-eyed too, and I rip my eyes from the screen to turn my head towards Harry. He looks at me, and the wonder in his expression is all I could ever have dreamed of.
"We made that," he whispers reverently.
"I'll just snap some photos for you," David interjects.
"Two please," I insist without taking my eyes from Harry's face. "That's our peanut."
"She's beautiful."
I laugh. "There's no way to know gender yet, Harry. Besides, you said they could be whatever they want."
This sloppy grin softens his face, and I wish I had a picture of this moment. I'd treasure it forever and share it with our bean when they are old enough.
"It's just a feeling I have, Anna. I can't explain it..."
Gripping his hand harder, I swallow. Yeah. My sentimental baby daddy. "I just don't want you to be disappointed."
"Could never happen. My heart is already overflowing." He swipes at a lone tear, blinking furiously. "My mum is going to flip out."
David has continued sliding the ultrasound wand over my lower abdomen, and he finally removes it, wiping off the gel carefully.
"I can say we've confirmed the pregnancy, and all seems to be progressing well. Now we just need to confirm parentage. Why don't you relieve your bladder, and then we'll draw some blood from each of you." Cleaning off the wand and unplugging the machine, David removes syringes from his bag.
Rising, I release Harry's hand and make my way to the loo. It's only after releasing him that I realise how tightly I'd been clinging to him. Knowing I am pregnant and hearing the heartbeat are two completely different versions of reality, and I appreciate the time in the guest bathroom to process the amazing, mind-blowing moment I had just experienced. No. Not just me. We had experienced it together. Harry and me. Harry and I.
When I look at my face in the mirror, I try to find the glow that people always talk about. Perhaps it's there. Mostly I just look like me. Taking a deep breath, I rest my hand on the doorknob before turning it and stepping back into the bedroom.
"Harry was just telling me that you're a veterinarian in Scotland."
My head whips to the popstar, and he shrugs. "He's my doctor, Anna. It's not like he's going to blab things all over. The secrets this man has kept on my behalf would twist the fandom into pretzel shapes they haven't yet invented."
Eyebrows raise nearly to my hairline, but I'm not going to take the bait. Secrets are secrets for a reason. Although I'd love to know about Harry's knees, and why he needed that surgery on his right hand/wrist in 2017, but neither are any of my business.
"Ready?" David asks, holding out the tourniquet for a blood draw, and I spy the pressure tape on Harry's arm where he must have given his own sample.
Nodding, I allow the doctor to place the band on my upper arm before he expertly glides the needle into a vein.
"You're pretty good at that," I tease.
"I suspect you're not so bad at it yourself."
"My patients have never filed a formal complaint," I grin. "Sometimes they get pissed off and snarl at me though."
He observes me. "I'm not your doctor, especially since I work here in London. You understand that I'll share the results of this paternity test with Harry first?"
"Yes. Can you collect some more and run the genetic tests too? To make sure there aren't any concerns lurking?"
David glances at Harry and, upon receiving nonverbal confirmation, reaches for extra vials to collect more blood.
"Thanks. My doctor has to run my tests through her team, and I worry that word would get out before we're ready to share the news." The doctor's gaze is concerned, and I rush to correct my wording. "Not intentionally of course. They wouldn't gossip, but I could see a case where someone asked me something in earshot of someone who can't help themselves. You know? It's a small town."
"It's fine," David replies. "I'll share those results with Harry too. Will you be staying in London for a few days? I can meet with the two of you in a couple of days with the results."
"Sorry," I squirm. "I've got to get back to my practice and my dogs. My best friend might be an excellent doctor, but she's a horrible dog sitter. And the rest of the town will wonder where I've gone. I can brush off a short two-day trip, but anything longer..." I allow my voice to trail off.
"Got it," Dr. Fletcher nods. "Are you experiencing any symptoms? Do I need to prescribe anything for you while you're here?"
"Not a lot of symptoms," I confess. "Occasional nausea, a sensitivity to smells, some weird cravings, and..." Pausing, I rub my legs together, biting my lip, "... and heightened arousal and sensitivity."
"Huh?" Harry jumps in. "What's that last one mean?"
David smiles at me and nods. "I can't help with that last one, but I think you're in good hands. You're medically cleared for the cure." He winks. Gathering his bag of trade tools and his ultrasound, he gives me one last grin. "When you're back in London, I'd love to see how you're getting along."
The twinkle in his eyes conveys his sincerity, and I'm grateful to Harry for having a kind private doctor. Not that I would expect anything less.
"I'll show myself out, Harry." The doctor heads for the door, and we jointly listen as he trumps down the stairs, opening and closing the front door behind him.
"Anna? What was that last symptom?"
"Huh? The smells? I can't do fish. It's an awful smell to me right now."
"Not that one. The other one."
"I've been craving super spicy food. Maybe we can get curry for dinner. The spicier the better. You'd think that my stomach would not be interested in spicy food right now, but it's all I can eat. I'm putting hot sauce on nearly everything."
"Anna –" His voice has that cautious warning in it – the one that says he's growing impatient. "Not that one."
"The nausea? That's lessening now thankfully. I mean, the first time I threw up at the Hamiltons' farm, I was so embarrassed. I can control that a little better now, although the spicy thing –"
"Anna!" He interrupts impatiently. "Not that one. The 'heightened arousal and sensitivity'. What's that one?"
A smirk covers my face. "It's no big deal, Harry. It just means that I'm incredibly horny these days. Seriously, one touch of my labia, and I can get off. It's rather pleasant actually. I mean, how frequently through one's life does one have such sensitivity? I can watch a movie with the least sexy storyline ever, and midway through, I'm drooling over the mediocre lead, dreaming of ways he could take me. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, and I'm so horny that I can't sleep until I take care of myself."
"Oh." He blinks once. Twice. Three times. "Um..." He shuffles his feet. "Since I can't help with the nausea, perhaps you'd let me assist with that particular symptom?"