“Jacqueline!” says Dr. Montgomery, entering the room with a great smile. “How are you? How are the boys?”

“Girl and boy,” I correct, although Jessica could be a boy. She’s certainly a take-no-prisoners kind of girl.

“I should know that,” he corrects himself with a laugh.

“You shouldn’t have to remember. You’ve delivered thousands of babies in the past few years.”

“Yes, but you and Daniel make beautiful babies.”

I nod and smile, my lips feeling tight over dry teeth.

“How is Daniel?” the doctor continues, flipping through my chart.

“Good.”

“I didn’t think he wanted another baby.”

My lips stretch tighter, and my throat feels like sandpaper. “We’re divorced.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s been about sixteen months. Two years. Something like that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Things happen.”

“So…?” The doctor looks up at me, thinning salt-and-pepper hair flopping on his tan forehead. I know the doctor has a place in Aspen and is an avid skier. Jessica was induced so I wouldn’t risk going into delivery when Dr. Montgomery was away with his family on winter break.

“I’m single, and… pregnant.” I manage a tremulous laugh. “At least, the home pregnancy kit said I was pregnant, and I haven’t had my period yet.”

“How late?”

“Almost two weeks now.”

He shifts a small circle on his clipboard. “December thirty-first.”

“December thirty-first,” I repeat dumbly, although I know exactly what he’s telling me. My baby’s due date. Kai’s baby’s due date.

“But it could be a Christmas baby, knowing your tendency to deliver early,” the doctor adds, and scribbles something in my chart before looking up at me. “There are risks in your forties, Jacqueline—”

“I know.”

“The baby’s father?”

“Not in the picture.”

The doctor looks at me long and hard. “You can terminate the pregnancy. No one would know.”

But I’d know. I grab the paper gown and press it against my thighs, feel the air against my exposed back and bottom. “I’m keeping the baby.”

“You have a couple weeks if you change your mind.”

“I won’t.”

He smiles a small, kind smile, but I’m numb inside, and his smile bounces off me.

“I recommend an amnio, Jacqueline. I know you didn’t have one with the first two pregnancies, but at your age—”

“I understand.” I cut him off, not needing to hear more about my age. I’m forty, not fifty, not sixty, and it pains me more than a little to have my fertility called into question.