Thalia’s Pov
We left to the sound of Dolly Parton’s Jolene, one of my favorite country songs. Both Nestor and Brandon were not country music fans, but because the trip was my idea, we were going to play my kind of music, which did not sit well with the boys, so we had to take turns picking songs.
My style was country, Nestor’s was pop, while Brandon’s was rock, the kind that sounded like someone was pounding a metal tin. Every time it was his turn to choose, I would shrug and close my eyes, waiting for the headache song to finish and he would do the same when it was my turn.
He hated country music. We had to stop a few times for him to puke, but the good part was that he didn’t collapse or become paralyzed.
Of course, Doctor Nestor was behaving as if we were dealing with a baby. He insisted on turning the car around every time we came to a halt. But Brandon, on the other hand, wanted us to keep going since he was loving the ride and it was better puking on the road than in the bathroom.
I was following Brandon’s lead, he had promised he would give us a signal the second his body felt like giving up but it seemed like he was having a trip of his life. We would stop to refuel or buy as much junk food as we could or just stop to breathe in the fresh air. Except for Nestor, it was Brandon and I’s first trip.
Brandon needed the trip, especially after hearing that he contacted his doctor and tried his last attempt in search of a cure, it explained why he was so withdrawn the last few months. The prospect of failing was eating him up.
Technically he was looking for a solution in secrecy while I was doing the same and we both failed. I had failed to tell him about my failure because it would only have p*ssed him off more. Talking about the machine, I had not stepped into the garage ever since the last failure. Of course, the prospect of having missed something kept me awake at night.
We arrived in the city in a matter of hours, the sun was practically setting, but we planned to stay the night at one of Brandon’s houses then fly home the next day. We put on our disguises of blonde wigs, sunglasses and parked the car in the hospital garage; the last thing we wanted was to draw media attention.
Brandon had cramped up on the Gala story. For the past two days, I was so p*ssed to notice that the story was not trending and most news organizations avoided airing the party incident for fear of being sued.
Josh and Jessica were cropped out of those that did air it. Only irrelevant channels were permitted to show the entire incident because they had no viewers or, if they did, it was mostly old folks who didn’t have time to make the story trend.
To keep everyone occupied, he published a videotape of Josh and his lawyer having sex in the courtroom office. Nestor was apparently given the command to release the tape when he gave him the order to sabotage them again. Such a controversy would be bigger and more delicious than what occurred at the Gala.
Because we had no intention of attracting crowds and because there was a limit to how many times Brandon could control the media. We went to the doctor’s office right away because he had already scheduled the scan.
He greeted us and told me to lie down on the bed, which I did, despite the fact that I was nervous. When I looked at Brandon, I noticed that he had a comfortable expression on his face, as if we hadn’t made the bet yet. He walked up to me and took my hand in his.
“Hope you are not going to cheat,” I asked. “Is it even feasible for me to cheat?” he exclaimed with a chuckle.
“You’re wealthy enough to hire a doctor to deceive me” I responded, the doctor gave me a serious look, but he didn’t say anything. It was obvious he wanted to say a lot of things.
“You still have the drab girl inside of you,” Brandon poked at me as he responded.
“No, Brandon, I’d like our bet in writing and signed by you,” I ordered.
“So, in a nutshell, you don’t trust me?” He enquired.
“You’d do anything for that money to end up with me, wouldn’t you?” I retorted.
He stood up and asked for a pen and paper. Nestor passed them over to him, and he swiftly scribbled something down and handed it to me. I opened it and read it; he vowed to only hand over the company if the baby was a female, and he signed it.
I wasn’t happy that he had to change his mind about gender at the last minute, but I let him do what he wanted because he was sick. There was still a possibility that the baby was a boy.
The doctor requested me to lift my shirt up before beginning the scan. My heart began to race for unknown reasons as the doctor applied the gel to my stomach.
Brandon smiled and clutched onto my hand as soon as we saw the baby.
Despite the fact that he had gambled on a girl, he exclaimed, “There he is.”
“It’s actually a girl,” stated the doctor, filling him with joy. Nestor and I exchanged perplexed expressions. I couldn’t decide whether to be angry or punch him in the head, so I just gazed at the screen in shock but I was not going to let him take away the beautiful moment.
“Congratulations, it is going to be a baby girl,” the doctor said again.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Very sure and she looks healthy and perfect to me,” he added.
I looked at Brandon who had a wide smile on his face as we watched our little girl moving her little hands and legs. She was so beautiful, she was everything that I imagined her to be.
