Page 54 of Reluctantly Ever After

Wren's eyebrows shoot up as she turns to me. "You're what now?"

"It's not a spreadsheet," I protest, feeling heat crawl up my neck. "It's just... a note app on my phone."

"Right," Reed says, prepping the ultrasound. "That you shared with me so I could monitor it for live updates."

"Stop. Talking," I growl, but Wren's watching me with this little smile that makes me forget why I was annoyed.

"He's been texting me constantly," Reed continues, clearly enjoying himself. "Making sure everything you're experiencing is normal.” He pitches his voice lower before mocking me, “'Is it normal if she craves cereal with hot sauce?' 'How much coffee is actually safe?' 'Should I be worried that she fell asleep during a movie?'"

"If you're done embarrassing me," I say through gritted teeth, "maybe we could focus on why we're actually here?"

"Fine, fine," Reed concedes. "How are you feeling, Wren?”

"Hungry," Wren says. "All the time. And my pants don't fit."

"That's normal," Reed assures her. "The second trimester is usually the easiest now that you’re past the nausea. Let's take a look at the little one."

I move to stand by Wren's head as Reed gets ready to do the ultrasound.

"This will feel a little gross," Reed warns as he squirts gel on Wren's rounded belly.

She flinches slightly, and without thinking, I reach for her hand. She looks surprised but doesn't pull away. Our fingers weave together like we’ve done it a thousand times.

The second our hands connect, something locks into place between us. Like every cell in my body just recognized its counterpart in hers. I don’t know what it is about touching her this time versus any other accidental touches we’ve had over the last three weeks, but it feels different, being here with her now, about to see our baby.

The rest of the room—Reed, the machines, even the goddamn fluorescent lights—they all blur at the edges while Wren comes into sharper focus.

Her pulse races against my thumb where it rubs across her wrist, matching the chaos of my own heart. This connection between us feels like a force I couldn't fight even if I wanted to.

And I don't want to.

What I want to do is pull her closer, wrap myself around her and our baby until nothing can take them away. Until nothing can hurt them.

The need to shelter them both, to claim her as mine, burns through me with an intensity that should scare the hell out of me.

Instead, it feels like finally admitting something I've known since Vegas but was too stubborn to face.

Reed clears his throat, snapping me back to the moment. Wren looks away, too, but her cheeks are the same shade as her hair. "You two ready?" he asks, not even trying to hide his knowing smirk as he looks at our joined hands.

I nod, unable to form words as Reed positions the ultrasound wand on Wren's belly. Her grip on my hand tightens as we watch the screen.

And there's our baby. It’s not the indecipherable blob from before, but something undeniably human. There’s a head. A nose. Arms. Legs. It’s moving and?—

"Holy shit," I breathe, my grip on Wren's hand tightening. "There’s really a baby in there."

"Excellent observation, dude," Reed says dryly. "Everything looks perfect. There’s a strong heartbeat." He points to different parts of the screen. "Here’s the head. The spine. The arms."

I can't tear my eyes away. That's my kid. My son or daughter. Moving around inside Wren even though you’d never know it from the outside.

"Do you guys want to know the sex?" Reed asks, moving the wand around.

I look down at Wren. Her eyes are glassy, like she could cry at any second, and I don’t know how I ever lived without her before.

"It's up to you," I tell her, voice dropping to a whisper only she can hear.

She bites her lip, then nods once. "Yes. I want to know."

Reed moves the wand again, his face serious for once as he studies the screen. "Well..." he pauses, and for a second my heart stops completely. "Looks like I owe Banks twenty bucks. You're having a boy."

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