Unfinished Ex (Calloway Brothers, #2)(60)

The nurse leaves, and Calista pulls the curtain. “They had me pee in a cup and stuff. Confirmed the test was positive.”

“Now what?” I ask, sitting in the far corner next to a bunch of equipment.

“They want to do an ultrasound to see how far along I am.”

My heart rate increases. “As in, we’re going to see it?”

She pushes the curtain away, her lower half draped in a paper sheet. “Guess so. Isn’t it exciting?”

Exciting would be if I were in this room with Nicky. Exciting would be if the woman I love got pregnant by accident. I’d hardly call what’s happening here exciting. More like stressful. Frustrating.

Utterly derailing.

There’s one knock on the door, and it cracks. “Ready?”

Calista sits on the exam table. “Yes.”

The nurse comes back in, followed by a doctor. My stomach turns. Not just any doctor. Hudson fucking McQuaid. I stand. “Oh, hell no.”

Everyone looks at me. Then Hudson realizes what’s going on, and his body shakes in silent laughter. He holds out a hand, trying to look all professional. “Jaxon Calloway, nice to see you.”

“Nice? I don’t want you anywhere near my kid. Are you even a real doctor?”

“I’m an OB resident. So, yeah, I’m a real doctor.”

“I want someone else.”

“That’s not your choice, now is it?”

“He works with Dr. Peterman,” Calista says. “Do you know how fortunate I was to get Dr.

Peterman as my OB? He’s in high demand.”

“Then why isn’t Dr. Peterman here?”

“We switch off,” Hudson says. “One visit you’ll have me, and the next you’ll see him. That way we’ll both be familiar with Calista’s pregnancy if the other isn’t available for delivery.”

“You are not delivering my kid.”

“Jaxon, hush,” Calista says. “Dr. Peterman will do the delivery. Hudson, er, Dr. McQuaid, is just a backup.”

Dr. McQuaid. It’s hard to even think this man is compassionate enough to help others. Not to mention that with all his family money, he chose to go into the medical profession. Then I think of what branch of the profession he’s in, and it makes sense. Pussies. He’s in it for pussies.

“It’s okay, you can call me Hudson,” he tells her. Then he turns to me. “Not you.”

The nurse tries not to smile when I flip him my middle finger.

“Can we get this over with?” I say.

Calista lies back on the table, and Hudson grabs some dildo-wand thingy and goes for her crotch. He holds it up, speaking very professionally. “Early ultrasounds are transvaginal.”

Shit. I swear to God if it were Nicky lying on the table, Hudson would be flat on his back with my fist up his nose.

“Don’t ultrasound techs normally do these?” Calista asks.

“In some practices, yes,” Hudson says. “We like to do our own here.”

He and the nurse say some stuff, but all I can think of is how Hudson McQuaid is a damn doctor.

I knew he went away to college and med school, and I’ve seen him around town, albeit far less than his brothers, but he’s still one hundred percent McQuaid—which means one hundred percent douchebag. And he’ll probably be on the phone to his brothers the minute he leaves the room.

Everyone knows Calista and I aren’t together anymore. And he’s the first to know this juicy little tidbit.

“There we go,” he says, pointing at the monitor. “We got lucky. I can see a heartbeat.”

“Oh gosh, really?” Calista asks excitedly.

“Give me a minute, and I’ll have an estimated fetal age.” He punches keys on the laptop. “Based on your last menstrual period and these measurements, it appears you’re approximately eight and half weeks along.”

“Two months?” I ask. “How come you didn’t know sooner?”

“I…” Calista looks at the other two in the room and then back at me. “We had just broken up,”

she whispers. “I wasn’t exactly thinking about getting my period. Then Eric and I got together, and things happened so fast.”

Eric. Damn. Why can’t he be the one sitting here? This kid should be his, not mine.

I shake my head, feeling guilty. Because I’d never want any child of mine to feel unwanted, no matter how they came into the world.

“Your due day is May eighth,” Hudson says.

Calista smiles. “Perfect. Close to the end of the school year. I’ll be able to enjoy all summer with the baby.”

“Is it a boy or a girl?” I ask.

Hudson shakes his head. “Too soon to tell.”

“I don’t want to know,” Calista says.

“Why not?” I ask.

“This whole thing started as a surprise. I want it to end that way, too.”

“I’ll make a note in your file,” the nurse says.

Calista studies the screen. “How big is it?”

“Not very,” Hudson says. “A little over a half inch. You can’t see it here, but the arms and legs are already well formed. Soon, the fingers and toes will grow longer and more distinct. And at your next appointment, we should be able to hear the heartbeat.”