Page 89 of Rockstar's Accidental Marriage

Cass’s expression grows thoughtful, and he leans forward, resting his forearms on the desk. “You know, my biggest regret is not being there for Kendrick when she was pregnant with Cassidy. I missed so much—doctor’s appointments and the first time Cassidy kicked. I let Derrick blind me to everything but my pursuit of fame–my career was the only thing that was important, and I never went after her.”

I meet his gaze, understanding the weight of his words. “You’re making up for it now, though. You and Kendrick—you’ve got a good thing going. And Cassidy—that kid adores you.”

He smiles, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Yeah, we’re lucky. But don’t make the same mistakes I did, Sam. Be there for Emily. No matter what’s happening with the band or Derrick or any of this crap—be there.”

“I will,” I promise, my voice steady. “Emily and our baby—they’re my priority.”

Cass nods, satisfied. “Good. Because if you screw this up, I’ll kick your ass.”

I laugh, but there’s an undercurrent of seriousness in his tone that I don’t miss. “Noted.”

As we wrap up our conversation, I can’t help but feel a renewed sense of purpose. Derrick might be lurking in the shadows, but we’re onto him. And as long as we stick together—as long as I stick by Emily—we’ll handle whatever comes our way.

The next morning, the anticipation is heavy in the air. Emily beams as we head to the doctor’s office for the ultrasound. She’s radiant, glowing in a way that stops me in my tracks every time I look at her. She’s traded her usual nerves for excitement, and seeing her like this makes me smile.

Our time in the waiting room feels like it stretches on forever, but Emily’s energy keeps the mood light. She taps her foot, flipping through a magazine she’s clearly not reading, and glances at me with a playful grin.

“You’re nervous this time,” she teases, her eyes sparkling.

“I’m not,” I lie, shaking my head.

Her grin widens. “You totally are. Your knee’s been bouncing for the last five minutes.”

I glance down, realizing she’s right, and force myself to stop. “Okay, maybe I am. But only because you’re not.” As she quirks an eyebrow, I admit, “I truly don’t care if it's a girl or a boy.”

Her expression softens, her hand reaching out to squeeze mine. “Me either. I just want the baby to be healthy.”

When they finally call us back, Emily’s the first to hop up. I follow her into the room, where the technician is waiting, with a kind smile.

The room fills with the hum of the machine and the faint swish of the gel being applied to Emily’s stomach. My hand finds hers as the technician moves the wand across her belly, the screen flickering to life with black-and-white images.

“And there’s your baby,” the technician says, her voice warm.

The room falls silent as we both stare at the screen. Because this time, we can see that it’s an actual baby.

“That’s incredible—look, Sam! Tiny hands, tiny feet, the outline of a little face.” My chest tightens at Emily’s excited voice, and I can hardly breathe; my chest is so tight.

“You want to know the sex of the baby, right?” the technician confirms, glancing between us.

Emily looks at me, her eyes wide with excitement. “Are we ready, Sam?”

I nod. “Yeah, let’s hear it.”

The technician smiles, moving the wand slightly. “Congratulations—you’re having a little girl.”

Emily lets out a soft gasp, her hand flying to her mouth as tears well up in her eyes, and something in my chest cracks open. But I’m frozen, my mind racing as the word echoes in my head—a little girl. I’m going to have a daughter. I’m a father.

“A little girl,” Emily whispers, her voice trembling. She turns to me, her expression a mix of awe and delight. “Sam, we’re having a baby girl.”

I squeeze her hand, finally finding my voice. “Yeah.” It comes out husky with emotion.

The way she continues to look at me, full of pure joy and wonder, makes me want to pull her into my arms and never let go.

The rest of the appointment passes in a blur. Emily asks a dozen questions this time around. Her enthusiasm is contagious, and I do my best to keep up, though my mind is still stuck on what the technician said—a little girl.

The beach is quiet when we arrive later that afternoon. Emily insisted on a walk to process the news, and I didn’t argue. She’s wearing an outfit that hugs her growing curves, and she takes my breath away. Pregnancy suits her—there’s this glow about her that makes it hard to look away.

We walk side by side, our feet sinking into the sand with each step—the steady rhythm of the waves matching the hum of excitement, still thrumming in my chest.

---