As I sit up and smooth down my shirt, Locke steps back, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest. A glint enters his eyes.
“Doctor,” Locke asks, tilting his head toward the dark screen. “Can you tell the s*x of the baby yet?”
“At twelve weeks? It’s a bit too early to be definitive on a standard ultrasound. The anatomical structures are still developing.” She arches an eyebrow, looking between the two of us. “Do you two want to find out early? At the next appointment, maybe?”
“Well,” I say, tapping my chin thoughtfully. “Locke has already convinced himself it’s a boy. He’s probably planning on buying a miniature motorcycle leather vest by next week.”
Locke raises an eyebrow with a cool, amused smirk. “I don't need a scan to know I can handle whatever comes out. G
