She smiles at me, those dimples popping, and it commands a smile on my own face.
“You ready to see our baby?” I ask
Isabelle leans forward, draping her arms behind my neck. “I’m ready for everything with you.”
Well, that’s a relief, because there’s a question I need to ask her tonight. I close her door, then round the hood and slip behind the wheel.
Eighteen minutes later, we’re waiting in the doctor’s office. My leg bounces as we wait to be called in.
“Isabelle Heart.” My lungs seize, dick twitching. I see what Caleb means now. I never updated Isabelle’s contact details from our initial scan, where I gave my last name as hers. Jesus, fuck, does it sound good.
Isabelle places the magazine she was flipping through back on the coffee table as she stands, following Dr Reevesdown the hallway.
“Okay, guys, twenty weeks. How have you been feeling, Isabelle?” she asks, tapping the bed as she pulls some gloves out of a box on her shelves.
Isabelle hops up and pulls the waistband of her stretchy skirt underneath her belly. I can’t help but rub my hand over the smooth, tight skin as I take the seat beside her.
“Really good. My feet and back hurt quicker than I’m used to after a long day, but nothing I can’t manage.”
“All to be expected.” The doctor nods, then takes a seat on her stool, wheeling closer to Isabelle’s other side and dragging her monitor with her.
She tucks some paper towel into Isabelle’s waistband, then picks up a tube of gel, squeezing a generous amount over her bump.
Iz turns to me, biting her lip with excitement. I pick up her hand, kissing the back of it, then hold it in both my hands as I lean on the bed, waiting for the screen to load.
Dr Reeves presses a few buttons, then picks up her transducer—the non-dildo looking one—and places it low on Isabelle’s stomach. After a few seconds, the screen fills with our baby. It still blows my mind that we can see our baby so clearly. Hands, feet, and a tiny button nose.
My teeth grind against each other as I hold my breath and blink back tears.
“Everything looks good.” The doctor continues to move over Isabelle’s bump, pushing buttons and looking at who knows what. “Nice size. Everything looks to be developing exactly how we want.”
She turns to Isabelle. “Were you wanting to find out the baby’s sex today?”
Isabelle squeezes my hand. “Yes, please. Can you see?”
The screen shifts as the doc moves and adjusts her angle. “Looks like we’rehaving a girl.”
My chest stutters, and my throat feels thick as a tear drops onto my hand, rolling down my forearm as I look at my daughter.My daughter.
“A girl.” I can hear the excitement in Isabelle’s words, but I still can’t take my eyes off the screen. “Gage?”
I manage to turn my head, finding Isabelle watching me carefully.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
I bring my forehead to hers. Words don’t feel like enough to express what she’s given me. It feels like a second chance at life. My world is bigger and brighter with her in it. I feel sad for myself that I wasted so many years thinking I had to atone for my failures. Thinking if I did more good, it would outweigh the bad. But now, I think where I am today is exactly where I was always meant to be.
When I saw August the night of the accident, when I heard him tell me they needed me, I was thinking of my family, but I think he may have meant Isabelle… and our daughter.
Chapter forty-one
After Gage dropped me back at work, we sat in Caleb’s office to video chat with the rest of their family and tell them the news. I was relieved when the doctor told us the baby was measuring in a perfectly average range. I’m five-foot-one, Gage is six-foot-five, and I was low-key dreading a big baby. I don’t know how the female body does it, but there’s no denying pregnancy is a whole other level of queenhood.
Mason has been giving us hourly updates on how his hearing is returning after Beth screamed into them from sheer excitement.
We made calls to my family after that, then Gage reluctantly left so I could get back to doing actual work. He said he had some things to organise. Sending me a bouquet of pink tulips and a pink iced cupcake an hour later was apparently one of those things.
It’s just after five p.m. when I pull into our driveway. I make my way through the garden path to the side door, rubbing my bump as I go. I can see Gage pacing in the kitchen through the glass panels on the door, and I pick up my pace a little.
