Not the name thing again. Mandy wiped her cheek and laughed in exasperation. “There’s nothing wrong with Rebecca. I just happen to like Cecilia.”

“That’s one of those names that sounds great with your British accent, but just sounds flat when Americans say it.” He turned to Cheryl. “Which name do you like better?”

The technician held up her hand. “Whoa. I stay out of discussions like this.”

“Damien, we can talk about this later.” Much later. Like never.

“We’re almost finished here.” Cheryl started printing out the photos of the baby. “Due date comes up as October twenty-one according to the size of the fetus.”

“Hey, I wanted to ask, could you tell if there was anything wrong like an embolism or anything?” Damien asked Cheryl. “Because before we knew we shouldn’t, we had oral sex. Cunnilingus. And I wanted to make sure we didn’t inadvertently force air into the vagina.”

Mandy almost fell off the table. “Damien!” She was certain that nothing could sound more horrifying than the word cunnilingus when spoken in reference to her. “You did not just say that.” She didn’t dare even glance at Cheryl, afraid she would melt from mortification at the horror she was sure was on the technician’s face.

“What? We’re all adults here, and I’ve been really worried about it.”

The man had the nerve to stand there looking completely innocent. Looking concerned. Looking professional. As if discussing his cunnilingusing her wasn’t something a bit too private for mixed company.

“You have really lost your mind. Next thing I know, you’ll probably be stopping people on the street to discuss my hemorrhoids.” Mandy took the towel Cheryl was handing her and started wiping her stomach. She winced as she pressed on her overextended bladder.

“You have hemorrhoids?” Damien exclaimed, his face twisting into a grimace.

She should let him think she did. She should promote any sort of gruesome aspect of pregnancy that would get him away from her before they both found themselves in a complicated mess.

But she couldn’t do it. She just slapped the towel down, rolled her pants up, and said, “No. No, I don’t. But you’re getting a bit personal, don’t you think?”

Cheryl handed Damien the printed photos and cleared her throat. “As far as your question, I think you’ll need to discuss any concerns of that nature with your OB/GYN.” Then she looked at Mandy with a smile. “And it’s none of my business, but I think it’s great to see how involved your husband is in your pregnancy. So many fathers aren’t interested at all.”

Mandy felt slapped. Her cheeks went hot and she sat up abruptly. Damien wasn’t her husband. He wasn’t even her baby’s father. And he was far more supportive and interested than the man whose DNA was running through her daughter.