Page 111 of Knocked Up By the Silver Foxes

“Date of birth, April fourteenth, twenty-four years old?”

“That’s me too.”

She makes a note, then looks up and clocks the three men distributed around the room with the expression of someone doing quiet math.

“And these three gentlemen are...”

“The fathers,” Asher says.

She raises one eyebrow. Just one, which I respect enormously. Nods once, slow, the way people nod when they’ve decided not to ask any follow-up questions.

“Okay then.” She glances back at her tablet. “I was going to mention that we typically allow the patient and one support person in the exam room, but.”

“We’re a special circumstance,” I say. “I apologize if that wasn’t clear in my intake.”

She waves her hand with a small, entirely genuine smile. “Not to worry. Are there any other family members we should plan for going forward?”

“No,” I say. “Three fathers is more than enough for me.”

Asher says, without missing a beat, “What about Sophia? Are you going to want her in the delivery room?”

I grimace. “She doesn’t know yet.”

The doctor glances up. “Who is Sophia?”

“My daughter,” Killian says.

“My best friend,” I say.

“Our goddaughter,” Asher and Maddox say, simultaneously, without looking at each other.

The doctor stares at the four of us for one long, considered moment. Behind her the door opens and a nurse slips in, takes one look at the room, clocks the situation, and hides a full laugh behind a warm, professional smile that she absolutely cannot fully suppress.

“Not a problem at all,” the doctor says, patting my hand once. “Whomever you’d like in the delivery room is entirely your choice. I’ll make sure we note to reserve the larger OR for your delivery. We can discuss method as we get closer, whether that’s a scheduled caesarean, natural birth, or another approach entirely. That decision is completely yours.”

I look at all three of them.

“See?” I say. “I told you. I’m the boss now.”

All three of them laugh, soft, at the same time, which is frankly the most agreeable they’ve been since we walked in here.

She explains what comes next, which is where the mood in the room shifts in a direction nobody was fully prepared for.

“For a pregnancy this early,” she says, snapping on a glove, “we’ll be doing a transvaginal ultrasound.”

“Wait,” Maddox says. “Vaginal? I thought they did it through the stomach. The gel and the wand and all that.”

“That’s later in the pregnancy,” Killian says, in the tone of a man who has done this once before and would like everyone in the room to know it.

“So they have to go—” Maddox points vaguely.

“Yes.”

“Internally.”

“Yes.”

Maddox looks at the doctor. “Will you be her doctor from now through when she delivers?”