I smile, but it feels crooked. “I, uh… I’m meeting someone here.”

The woman arches an eyebrow at me. “Meeting someone?”

“Yes, she’s my…” God, I don’t want to explain this to a stranger. “Monica Johnson.”

“Oh!” The receptionist’s face relaxes as she smiles in recognition. “Yes, she’s just about done.”

Just about… done?

Before I have a minute to mull this over, Sam and Monica burst out of the back. She’s holding a string of black-and-white images, and he’s grinning ear-to-ear. My mouth falls open. What. The. Hell?

“Abby!” Sam waves at me. “You missed it, but we’ve got pictures.”

I jump out of my seat and rush over to them. I don’t want to lose my temper in this waiting room, but I’m furious. How did I miss it? I’m on time! I’m early! What is going on here?

“How could you be done?” I hiss at him. “The appointment is at two!”

“No,” Sam says patiently. “The appointment was at one.”

I look at Monica, who is no longer smiling. “You told me it was at two,” I say.

She frowns. “I told you one, Abby.”

“You told me two.” Damn it.

She shakes her head. “I know I told you one. You put it in your calendar—I saw it.”

Bullshit. I reach into my purse and yank out my phone. I bring up the calendar and…

Monica ultrasound – 1 PM.

Oh my God, how did I get it wrong? I had in my head the whole day that it was at two. Did I really manage to screw that up? What’s the matter with me?

“Why didn’t you text me?” I say to Sam, desperate for this to be someone else’s fault but mine.

He shrugs helplessly. “You’ve been so busy lately with that Cuddles baby food stuff. I didn’t want to bother you. I figured you couldn’t make it.”

I feel like bursting into tears. I can’t believe I missed the ultrasound. I wanted to be there so badly. And the worst part is that Sam and Monica don’t seem to care in the slightest. I wouldn’t expect Monica to care necessarily, but Sam doesn’t seem to feel all that bad about it either.

“Everything looked good, they said,” Sam adds.

I guess that’s all that matters. The point of this ultrasound was to make sure the baby is okay, not for entertainment purposes. “Well, that’s good.”

He holds up the row of images. “Do you want to see?”

I snatch the pictures from his hand. My anger fades slightly at the sight of them. The images are mostly black, but in white is an outline of the baby’s face—a tiny nose, a tiny chin, and the curve of the baby’s skull.

Sam grins at me. “Great, right?”

“Can…” I look up at them. “Can we keep this?”