The monitor steadied, numbers blooming one after another across the display. Lucas forced his eyes away, but Dr. Marin-Shaye's faint intake of breath dragged his gaze back. She leaned closer to the tablet, brows lifting as if she needed to make sure the data wasn't lying to her.
"Huh," she said at last, the sound breaking the clinical rhythm of the room. A wry, almost startled smile ghosted across her lips. "So it really was the first time. Dominant fertility is something else."
Lucas blinked, uncomprehending for a beat. His mind tripped over the words, staggered, then stopped dead.
Trevor's hand tightened on his. "What are you saying?"
Marin-Shaye turned the tablet toward them, though the numbers were meaningless to Lucas in that moment. Her voice was calm, but there was no disguising the note of surprise threading through it. "You're pregnant. Three weeks, roughly… your last heat."
