Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 114068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
“She means a friend with a penis,” Mollie explains.
I laugh. “Got it.”
“And then there’s this.” She grabs my hand and puts it on her belly. “We’ve got our work cut out for us. I’m still figuring my shit out when it comes to my parents and their whole…situation. But I really do feel hopeful for the first time in a long time, and that—it’s all you, baby.”
The words are on the tip of my tongue.
Just three of them. Simple enough.
I’ve said them before, but I’ve never actually meant them.
I open my mouth. Just say it.
“Answer’s yes.” Aw, now I feel like a chickenshit. I just don’t wanna ruin this moment. Everyone’s in a good place. One major milestone at a time, right?
Wheeler wraps me in a tight hug. I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her against me, burying my head in her neck so I can inhale the familiar smell of her skin.
Maybe one day, she’ll say yes to me too.
For right now, though, this is enough.
I got my girl, and now I got a plan to pivot my life and my career in a way I’ve always wanted.
I’m bursting.
I’m happy.
CHAPTER 30
What Happens Next
Wheeler
Tha-wunk, tha-wunk, tha-wunk.
The loud, insistent beat of the baby’s heart suddenly fills the room, and I’m filled with a sense of overwhelming gratitude. And joy. And disbelief.
I burst into tears.
“Aw, Blue, you’re doing great.” Duke runs his thumb over the back of my hand and nods at the ultrasound screen. “Look how perfect that little nugget is.”
The ultrasound tech nods, smiling. “He’s right, Mom. Everything is looking great. Heart rate is 155 beats per minute, and we’re measuring a little ahead at nine weeks and six days.”
Mom. First time someone’s called me that.
I cry some more.
“That’s good?” Duke asks, sniffling.
“That’s excellent.” The tech moves the wand over my belly. “Your doctor will likely keep your current due date, but we could be looking at a big, healthy baby.”
“Big, huh?” Duke squeezes my hand. “Runs in the family.”
The tech and I both laugh, even as I roll my eyes. “Think it’s a boy, then?”
“I think girl, all the way.”
“Y’all can find out the sex at your twenty-week anatomy scan,” the tech says. “It’s a really fun ultrasound. You’ll see the brain, the chambers of the heart, the little bones.”
“And not so little—”
“Parts.” I cut him a look. “If it’s a boy.”
“I was going to say not so little heart. Our daughter’s going to be a lover.”
“Just like her daddy.” I grin at him through a film of tears. “You’d be such a great girl dad.”
“Sawyer just learned how to braid Ella’s hair. Said he’d be happy to teach me.”
My heart twists at the image of Duke brushing a little girl’s hair.
I can’t believe we’re doing this.
I can’t believe this man and this baby are mine.
I really, really hope I don’t mess this up. Duke and the baby are nice reminders to focus on the positive. They’re also the best excuse to think ahead instead of dwelling on the past.
Looking up at the screen, I see a tiny, bean-shaped blur that floats in a transparent sac. The beating heart is barely visible as a pulsing white light.
In thirty-some-odd weeks, I’m going to have my own my little family. Before meeting Duke, I would’ve felt this overwhelming sense of disbelief. All this goodness is happening to me? The girl who’s been told all her life she’s too sensitive, a pain in the ass, a strange, shameful, ultimately forgettable human being? What right does she have to happiness?
Now, allowing myself to enjoy that goodness just feels like the next right step.
Duke grabs my hand again as we head out of our appointment after meeting with Dr. Martinez in an exam room following the ultrasound.
“Since it appears this nugget is sticking around, I’d like to officially share the news that we’re expecting with my family.” Duke looks at me. “Maybe host a little get-together at the cottage or something?”
Those butterflies appear again in my center. The doctor informed us that with such a strong heartbeat and good measurements, our baby has a very good chance of making it to the all-important twelve-week mark, when the instance of miscarriage goes way down.
Even if that wasn’t the case, I still want to officially tell Duke’s family. Yes, they already know, but this way, no one is tiptoeing around the news. We can finally all celebrate together, and they can be there for us if anything ever happened.
I’m learning how valuable support like that is.
I’m learning how much I need it and how good it feels to accept it.
“I love that idea. Maybe we have a fire on the porch? Have s’mores for Ella and Junie. And Mollie. And definitely for me too.”
I’ve never had much of a sweet tooth, but all of a sudden, I’ve been craving chocolate and ice cream and Patsy’s Texas sheet cake.