When they called her name, I stood with her. The nurse glanced between us.
“Dad coming back too?”
Dad.It hit me. I was going to be someone’s dad.
“Yes,” I said, and it felt like a vow.
The appointment was routine until the doctor reached for the ultrasound wand. Isabel flinched when the doctor spread the cold gel on her stomach, and I held my breath as she moved the device, but we only heard static. My heart stopped, and Isabel’s hand found mine and squeezed hard.
Then—thump-thump-thump-thump.
“The baby’s heart rate is perfect,” the doctor said. “One fifty-six.”
Isabel’s hand was crushing mine. When I glanced at her, her eyes were wet, just like mine were.
“You’re out of the first-trimester danger zone,” the doctor continued. “I’m clearing you for increased activity. But no heavy lifting. Four weeks until your anatomy scan.”
In the parking lot, I rested my hand on Isabel’s stomach.
“Hear that?” I said softly. “You’re doing great in there. Your mama and I are so proud of you.”
When I looked up, Isabel was crying. Happy tears, Ithought. I hoped.
That afternoon, she found me on the sofa with the pregnancy book. The cartoon one. The one she’d probably assumed I’d bought as a joke.
“What?” I said, catching her staring from the doorway.
“I didn’t think you’d actually read it.”
“Why not?” I patted the cushion beside her. “I’ve got a lot to learn. Did you know the baby can hear sounds now? Us talking to her?”
“I did know that.”
“So when I talk to her, she can actually hear me.”
I grinned and shifted, laying my head in her lap so my face was level with her stomach.
“Hey, baby girl,” I said. “It’s your papa. I’m reading a book about you. You’re the size of an avocado right now, which is wild. You’ve got fingernails and eyelashes, and you can make a fist. So if you want to punch something in there, go for it.”
Isabel’s fingers combed through my hair. When I looked up at her, her expression made my chest ache.
“She’s going to have the weirdest sense of humor,” she said. “Just like you.”
“She’s going to be perfect. Just like her mom.”
The next afternoon,I walked back from my meeting with Thomas. My head was full of distribution numbers and partnership possibilities. I’d filled him in on some of what Isabel and I were preparing, and he said he couldn’t wait to hear more about it.
I was already thinking about how soon we’d be ready when I came up the cottage steps and heard people talking inside.
“You have options. You know that, right?” Bas asked.
I stopped on the porch and listened, even though I knew I shouldn’t.
“Kick is here because I want him to be,” Isabel responded. “If that’s what you mean.”
A pause. Then Bas spoke again. “Do you…you know, love him?”
My chest tightened as I waited for her answer.
