Page 68 of Legacy of Deception

I brought a hand to her shoulder and squeezed. “Then we’ll find out,” I assured her.

Nodding herself, the doctor pointed at the monitor on the wall. Hanging from it was a taped note that informed patients to make sure they told the doctor whether they wanted to know the fetal sex during the appointment. “All right, so—”

“Actually, if you don’t mind, I have a different idea.” Brooklyn let out a shaky laugh. “It might be a tad unconventional, but would you mind writing the sex down on a piece of paper and leaving it with Marco? I’d like it to come from him.”

I blinked, looking over at the doctor. “Me?” Part of me wondered if that was even a possibility and she would be willing to do that. However, the other part of me, and, frankly, the majority of me, wasn’t sure why she wanted that.

“Yes,” Brooklyn assured me.

I felt a tug in my chest. It was brutal and relentless. It felt like something was trying to rip my heart right out and present it to me on the outside of my body where I could see it beating rapidly instead of merely feel it.

“I’ve received many different requests over the years. This one is definitely doable, and I would be more than happy to do it for you,” the doctor explained, a genuine smile crossing her lips as she moved back to the computer, pulling a pen out of her coat.

Before she did it, I held up a finger. “Wait.” Clearing my throat, I went back to shifting in my seat. Jesus, I couldn’t wait to get up and get out of here. Just so that I stopped whatever this bullshit was I had going on. “Are you sure? Why me?”

She grinned. “Because I want this moment to be special.”

I furrowed my brows. “And that’ll do it?”

“Yes, Marco.” She gritted her teeth, her eyes flaring as warning filled them. “Please,” she begged, speaking only to the doctor now. “I’m not changing my mind.”

Without any further instructions, she took no more than two seconds to write it down, fold the paper, and stand. “I’m going to give you two some time.” Outstretching her arm, she offered me the paper. The paper that had the information on it. The sex of the baby.

I took it from her, hesitantly. We could find out at the same time. Why wouldn’t Brooklyn have wanted that? I found it hard to believe she wanted me to know something so personal before her. The doctor knowing, a cake designer knowing so they can bake some shit with the color inside as a surprise, was one thing, but me knowing, someone who had no real reason to know first, was an entirely different story.

“When you’re done, just peek your heads out and let a nurse know.”

When she was gone, I ran a hand through my hair. “Kiki… Are you sure?” I stood up, putting myself out of my own misery. I couldn’t stand that chair. Sitting in general. In a doctor’s office. There was nothing relaxing about knowing you were here for a reason, to find out the sex of a baby that wasn’t even yours, but you wished was and would be for all intents and purposes. So, why the desire for people to sit? I didn’t understand it, and I had a feeling I never would. Not that I particularly cared.

Waving the paper around, I went to walk and stretch my legs a bit in the confined room, but Brooklyn placed a hand on my forearm, right over my tattoos. She wrapped her fingers around me and growled. “If you ask me that again, I will scream.”

“How about we open the paper and read it together? At the same time? Sounds like that would make for a special moment to me.”

She pinched at my skin as her grip tightened. It didn’t hurt, but my gaze lowered there nonetheless.

I focused on the birds.

I felt like my past and where I came from—Santo—dictated how terrible of an idea this was. Knowing her baby? Sure. But raising it? With her?

The past was one bird. The present was another.

I needed to start seeing them as distinct.

I shrugged, smirking as I felt any anxiety lift from my body and float in the air around us, like innocent feathers of a bird. “Fine, so you want me to read it to you.” I supposed I could give her what she wanted.

Drawing her hand back, she clacked her tongue on the roof of her mouth. “Wow. What gave it away? It’s not like—”

The rest of her words faded away as my fingers latched onto the paper, unfolding it. Twice over again, just as many times as it had been folded.

Something unfurled inside me.

My muscles bunched, and I inhaled before reading the one word on the paper.

Tuning back in, I looked at Brooklyn, her voice coming in clearly, as she was apparently still talking. “And that’s why I think so—”

My gaze was on her, and I didn’t waver. “We’re having a girl,” I practically rushed to say, my excitement obvious.

Her lips twitched, a sparkle noticeably shining in her eyes. Then the sparkle slowly glistened. She was…crying. “You said we,” she choked.