Page 45 of Closing the Distance

Tears fill my eyes as I stare at the screen, at the little face with tiny features.

Her face.

A baby girl.

I’m having a daughter.

I’m terrified of what kind of world she’ll live in and what she’ll have to face as a woman, but thrilled beyond belief. I didn’t have a preference either way, but I find myself smiling impossibly wide at the thought of a daughter. When I turn to Ty, he’s staring at the screen, stunned.

“You’re gonna be a girl dad,” I say, keeping my voice soft, although it does nothing to hide the emotion.

He turns his watery eyes to mine and leans forward, one hand holding mine while the other settles on top of my head. He kisses my forehead and then rests his forehead against mine. “There’s no one else in the world I would want to be a girl dad with than you.”

We both focus our attention back on the screen, watching and listening as the tech describes the different parts of our daughter’s anatomy. The appointment drags on a little bit when our daughter rotates and makes it hard to get one of the measurements the tech needs, but after a cup of ice water—which supposedly helps to get babies moving when they’re like this—she moves into a better position.

We leave with a handful of ultrasound pictures and both of us still in stunned awe. I can’t stop looking at the pictures as Ty drives us back to his place.

I’m having a daughter.

“What are we going to name her?” Ty asks, breaking the silence.

I tear my gaze away from the pictures, and my mind instantly draws a blank. “I have no idea.”

He looks away from the road briefly, his gaze connecting with mine, and I catch the slight uncertainty in his eyes.

“What?” I ask.

He nibbles his lip for a second, and he looks a little timid as he asks, “Do you want to name her after your mom?”

“Which one?” The words are out of my mouth before my brain processes what I just said, and my eyes widen as he does a double take.

“You have more than one?”

I swallow thickly. I was not prepared to have this conversation today, not when I’m already emotional after learning I’m having a daughter. But I’ve put it off long enough. He deserves to know; it doesn’t mean I have to tell him everything.

“I was adopted. I never knew my birth mother.”

“Did you ever try to find her?”

“No,” I respond, staring at the window, but apparently Ty doesn’t take the hint that I don’t want to talk about it anymore.

“Why not?”

My jaw drops as I turn my head and stare him down. “Why not? Why would I? She clearly didn’t want me, so why would I bother wasting my time to find someone who never wanted me to begin with?”

He stares out at the road, his lips thinned and his brows low, thinking hard. Silence fills the space, and for a minute I think he’s going to let it drop.

“Maybe she did want you, but she couldn’t take care of you. That kind of thing isn’t unheard of.”

“You don’t get it,” I mumble, unable to look at him anymore. His questions have dampened my mood, and I don’t want to think about the person who gave me up.

“Explain it to me,” he says.

Why can’t he just read the room? Why does he have to keep pushing?

Anger sizzles, building abruptly. “Explain it? I can’t explain it to someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” he says slowly like he’s trying to understand the words.

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