My annoyance with Maverick disappears as soon as the tech opens the cap of the needle. I loathe needles. Loathe them more than pap smears and crinkly b.u.t.t paper.

"Remember you're doing this for our baby." Maverick threads his fingers with mine.

I lean against him, and as the needle enters my vein, Maverick counts to ten.

I'm lying on another bed in another room. My s.h.i.+rt is up to my bra, and the waistband of my pants are low on my hips. Our doctor applies gel to the wand and begins to move it across my abdomen.

Maverick stands by the side of my bed, both of our eyes glued to the computer screen. Nothing on it resembles anything familiar. Just a large triangle with a scooped bottom line, but we don't dare look away. This is the first time we'll see our baby.

The doctor stops. "There it is," she says, clicking on the keyboard.

But she didn't have to tell me. My heart stilled the moment I saw a large head and two tiny legs. I exhale, not believing what's inside me. How can a person fall in love with another person so fast?

Maverick squeezes my hand, seeing what I'm seeing, feeling what I'm feeling.

"You're about ten weeks already," the doctor says, pointing to the measurements she's taken.

"Can we see the gender?" Maverick asks.

"Unfortunately it's too early for that. Sometimes we can know by twelve weeks."

The doctor prints off pictures and gives them to me. "Everything looks normal. Congratulations."

I peer at Maverick. He's beaming at me like I've done something spectacular. Like he sees me differently today than he did yesterday.

And maybe he does. Because right now, I see him differently too. He's always been Maverick-my Mav, my love, my best friend. But today he's someone else too. He's the father of our child.

We leave the office, and Maverick can't stop smiling. He can't stop touching me either, caressing the back of my hand with a thumb and kissing me. There's no fear etched into his eyes, no trace of worry.

For the first time since the plus sign showed up on the pregnancy test, I have no worry either. Our little family of two has now become a family of three.

Maverick opens the car door for me and reaches out to help me inside.

"I'm pregnant. I'm not elderly," I say.

"Doesn't mean I can't a.s.sist my lovely wife into her chariot, does it?"

I have a retort ready, but his phone rings. "Hang on," he says. "h.e.l.lo?... Yeah ... I took the afternoon off... They did? Does Peterson know? ... Uh-huh... Yeah, okay.... Litigation isn't for two weeks... All right. I'll be in later tonight."

"Work?" I ask unnecessarily.

"The afternoon is yours, Mama Jellysnack."

"And the evening belongs to the office."

"Probably most of the night too."

I reach for the door and close it. One half-day with my husband has suddenly become a quarter of a day. A measly few hours.

He gets in and leans over to kiss me. "Hey. I have an idea. Are you up for it?"

"Depends on the idea. Sky-diving is probably frowned upon in my condition."

"d.a.m.n. I'll have to re-schedule then."

"Bungee jumping might be okay."

"Eh, they were booked well into next month. We'll have to wait on that one too."

"Dirt-biking?"

"It's eight degrees below zero, and there's three inches of snow on the ground."

"Oh, but the previous two ideas were legit in this weather."

"They do those things in the winter."

"Yes, they do. In Florida."

"Maybe I got plane tickets to Florida."

"Then we can dirt-bike in Florida too."

Maverick grins. "How about something where gravity is less involved. Like a day where my wife, the beautiful mom-to-be, gets a day of husband-pampering."

"Husband-pampering not in the bedroom? What does that entail, because I'm not having s.e.x with you in public."

"Bedroom pampering comes later, I promise. Whatever you want. But today, it means I take you somewhere to get your nails done, do some baby shopping, and go out for dinner. Sound girly enough?" He eyes me, waiting for a reward for his brilliant plan.

It sounds good. Great, actually. Other than cla.s.s, I haven't left the house for anything other than the grocery store. And with Maverick working these ridiculous hours, even Morocco's company is lacking.

I place an imaginary tiara on my head. "Let the pampering begin."

Maverick takes me to the mall, where I get French tips on my fingers and toes while he browses the pro sports shop next door. After, he suggests shopping at the maternity store, but I'm so not ready for that yet. I opt for Cinnabon instead.

"I'll probably throw this up later, but it's totally worth it," I say with a mouthful of sugary-cinnamony heaven.

Mav wipes the corner of my mouth with this thumb. Then he holds it out for me to lick the frosting off. "Have I ever told you how happy I am that I married you?"

"You'll never find a girl who can down a Cinnabon like me. You're a lucky man. Don't forget it."

"You wouldn't let me if I wanted to."

I stuff the rest of the roll into my mouth. "Okay, what's next?"

"Dinner, but I think you just ate it."

"Nonsense. That was a snack."

"All right, well, let's stick close to a bathroom for awhile. In case you explode."

"Oh, oh!" I point down the hall. "B Is For Baby. We have to go there."

I've pa.s.sed by the baby sections of department stores before, and I bought diapers and baby clothes once for a baby shower, but this is different. These items are soon to become necessities in our lives.

"Look at the little booties!" I hold up the pink and white polka-dot ones. "They're so tiny."

"So you think it's a girl?" Maverick asks, picking up a set of blue-and-white-striped booties.

"I don't know."

"You don't have a sixth sense about it?"

"Hmmm." I close my eyes and wave my hands over my stomach. "Pink or blue? Pink or blue?" I open my eyes. "Yeah, I got nothing."

"Do you have a preference?"

I put the booties back on the shelf. "I keep thinking how I could get those cute baby headbands if it's a girl. Baby tights and tiny patent leather shoes. But then, a boy would be so much fun. He'd have toy cars, and Morocco would watch him play and pounce on him." I move to a rack of footed pajamas. "Maybe I have a hunch of a boy." I glance up at Maverick. "How about you?"

"I grew up with two brothers. It's what I know." Maverick lifts up a football jersey. "We have to buy this. I have to start him early."

"Okay, you pick one thing, and I pick one thing." I sift through the sleepers. "So, do you want to find out the gender?"

"Yeah, of course. Why wouldn't we?"

I drape a duck sleeper over my arm. "I don't."

"Why not?"

"I guess because we get so few happy surprises in life, and I don't want this one to slip by."

"We'll be surprised at the ultrasound," he says, adding a blue blanket with airplanes on it to his pile.

"It's not the same."

At the checkout, we pay for two sleepers, a blanket, a football jersey, both pairs of booties, and a stuffed bear. The clerk hands me the bag and I thank her.

Maverick takes my hand as we leave the store. "If you'd rather not find out, we don't have to." Then he grins. "But you're the one who has to tell Finley she doesn't get to throw a gender-reveal party."

Oh snap.

Chapter 43.

Present day 12:35 pm.

I shade in the shadow of Maverick's head against the pillow. There's a little light in the room, enough to cast the tiniest blur around his ear. I add in the small creases in the pillowcase.

It's just a pencil drawing with Maverick's face in focus and the surroundings distorted. The monitors, the machines, the tubes, the noise have become a haze to me. Mav's vitals show on the screens. I ask Laney his numbers when she comes in, sure, but the rest of it has faded into the background. Finn has even backed off and is sitting in the corner reading.

I study the shape of his eyes for a moment. I've drawn them so many times, usually I could do it by memory, but they're different now. His right eye is swollen, and his eyebrow is partially covered by a bandage. The left one is closer to normal, though the coloring is all wrong. His eyelid is too garnet, and the plum and walnut beneath shouldn't be there. Still, I draw them as they are.

I look up when Laney comes in for another blood pressure check. "Lab work?" I ask.

"Back into the normal range. That's good," she answers.

She wraps the cuff around his arm and turns on the machine. "Eighty-six over fifty-three. Still low, but it's improving." She adjusts his IV fluid.

"Thank you."

She and I have sunk into a routine. I have no more questions to ask, and she has no more answers. The minutes move slow in the silence, and it's okay. There're blue hues among the reds, healing among the pain, peace among the fear.

There's hope.

Chapter 44.

Chicago, Illinois Four months ago The growing baby b.u.mp has my jeans digging into my stomach. I'm not ready for actual maternity jeans, so I just got done ordering four new pairs of yoga pants. A couple of the maternity tops didn't look completely awful. They should arrive on Wednesday.

"Are you even listening to me, Ali?" Finn asks, her voice rising through the speakerphone.

"Of course I'm listening ... what did you say?"

"Is Friday okay?"

"Okay for what?"

"I'm coming over Friday. We're doing baby stuff."

"Oh, Friday. Next Friday?"

"Where did you get the next from? No, this Friday. As in three days from today."

"Right. Great. Yes." I close my laptop. "Friday."

Finley groans. "Are you going to remember?"