Page 15 of Curvy Girl and the Bad Boy Cowboy

"I don't know. The books show these drawings, but seeing it for real..."

"I know," she says softly. "It's different."

I help her off the exam table, keeping a steady hand on her arm as she steps down. The small gesture feels important somehow—a tiny way to show I can be supportive, dependable.

"I'll let you get dressed," I say, turning toward the door. "I'll wait outside."

Naomi nods, but before I can leave, she says, "Ethan?"

I turn back.

"Thank you for being here today." Her voice is quiet but sincere.

"I told you I would be," I reply, meaning it more than I've meant anything in a long time.

In the waiting room, I sink into a chair, staring at the ultrasound photo. A girl. Vincent will be thrilled—he's been outnumbered with brothers his whole life and dotes on little Lucy like she's made of gold.

Aaron will probably start building a crib immediately—he's been looking for projects since finishing the ranch house renovations to accommodate more people.

Jackson will tease me about having a daughter who'll bring home boyfriends someday, and Cole...well, Cole will understand better than most, having stepped up for Luisa's kid.

I'm so lost in thought that I don't notice Naomi approaching until she's standing right in front of me.

"Ready?" she asks.

I nod, standing quickly. "How are you feeling?"

"Hungry," she admits.

"We should get some food then," I say decisively. "For her." I gesture vaguely toward Naomi's stomach, then feel embarrassed. "And you, obviously. Mostly you."

Naomi tilts her head, studying me with a small smile. "Are you asking me to lunch, Ethan Covington?"

"Yes," I say, then add quickly, "Just lunch. Not trying to push anything. Just two people who are having a baby together getting some food after an appointment."

"Very smooth," she says, but she's still smiling. "Lunch would be nice."

We walk out to the parking lot together, the autumn air crisp against my face. I notice Naomi pulling her jacket closer around her.

"Are you cold?" I ask. "I can turn up the heat in the truck."

"I'm fine," she assures me. "Just a little chilly. Where should we eat?"

"Anywhere you want. Whatever you're craving."

She considers for a moment. "Madeline's diner has really good grilled cheese. I've been wanting one all week."

"Madeline, it is," I agree, opening the passenger door of my truck for her.

As I walk around to the driver's side, I catch sight of my reflection in the window. I look exactly the same as I did this morning—same flannel shirt, same worn jeans, same Covington Ranch cap—but something feels fundamentally different. Like I'm standing straighter, breathing deeper.

Inside the truck, Naomi is already buckled in, looking at the ultrasound photo again.

"We should probably start thinking about names," she says as I start the engine.

"Names," I repeat, the reality hitting me again. "Right. Any ideas?"

"A few," she admits. "But nothing definite yet."

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