“Your call, Ace. Do you want to know the sex or do you want to be surprised?”
“I... Am I a bad mom if I say I’m not sure? I just kept hoping and praying the baby is okay.” I turn to Kenzie. “I didn’t know I was pregnant. I didn’t know... I mean, what did you say? I’m sixteen weeks pregnant, and I didn’t even know until last week. I just wanted the baby to be okay. But now... Now you’re telling me that she... or he... that the baby is healthy and I can get to know if they’re a boy or a girl?”
“You don’t have to decide now, Ashton,” she assures me and presses a few more buttons. “But you’re right. Your baby is perfectly healthy. You’re measuring a little small for sixteen weeks, but based on your small frame, I’m not concerned. I’d like to continue to monitor you though. We’re actually on the early side of being able to determine the sex, but your baby just happens to be cooperating.”
I turn my head and squeeze Jamie’s hand. “I want to know.”
“Then let’s find out.” He brushes his lips over mine.
Iwalk out of the office, holding the first official picture of our son in my hands and a perma-smile etched on my face.
Jamie presses the button for the elevator, then wraps an arm around me and kisses the top of my head. “A boy... We’re having a boy. You’re giving me a baby boy,” he murmurs, awed, with so much love for this baby, who’s the size of an avocado, I think I might fall just a little bit in love with him.
I push up on my toes and throw my arms around his neck and giggle as Jamie lifts me, my feet dangling above the floor. “We’re having a boy.”
“What thefuck?”
Oh no. “Finn?”
ASHTON
When you finally realize each day that passes isn’t onemoreday,
but actually one dayless,
you’ll never look at life the same way you did before.
—Ashton’s Secret Thoughts.
“Ashton...” Jamie follows me into the kitchen, my stomach threatening to violently revolt because, according to Kenzie, who insisted I call her Kenzie, anywhere between 15 to 20 percent of all the pregnant women in the world experience morning sickness throughout their second trimester too. And lucky me, it looks like I’m falling right smack dab in the middle of that little statistic.Yay me.“Stop.”
The hum of Finn’s Audi pulling into the driveway outside doesn’t do anything to lessen the nausea, not after seeing the look in his eye at the hospital. Or the way he refused to speak to us, keys in hand, as we all walked to the parking garage. Finn’snot a quiet guy, but he’s never going to cause a scene at the hospital. Not for himself and not for me. Here—at home—this isn’t going to be good.
I throw open the refrigerator and pull out a bottle of ginger ale. There’s no way the quick ride home calmed the brewing storm. “I don’t want to stop, Jamie. He’s about to walk in here. I want to fix this for him, and I don’t know how.”
Just as those words sink in, Dillan appears in the kitchen, carrying Kyrie.
“How was the—” She looks between Jamie and me and scrunches her nose. “Oh shit. What happened?”
Kyrie reaches for me, and I take her from Dillan and run my hand over the fine blonde hair covering her sweet-smelling head. “Hey, sweet girl.”
“Is the baby okay?” Dillan asks, looking suddenly concerned.
Jamie drops a kiss on the top of Kyrie’s head. “Everything is fine. The baby is fine. Ashton is fine.”
“Ashton is not fine,” I snap and scowl, knowing I was just reduced to talking about myself in the third person. “Finn isn’t fine. And neither are you, Jameson. None of this is fine, no matter how you spin it.”
“Oh shit,” Dillan whispers and grabs her purse from the counter just as Finn walks in through the garage door. “And that would be my cue to leave. We’ll talk tomorrow, Ash.”
Thank you, I mouth to her as she heads for the front door, and I spin around to watch Jamie and Finn square off against each other. They both stand, feet shoulder-width apart and arms crossed over their chests. Two brothers, both looking like they’re ready to fight each other.
This is ridiculous.
“This is my fault,” I murmur and shift Kyrie to my hip, then try to open the bottle of ginger ale with one hand.
“I doubt that,” Finn levels my way, his voice cold and angry, not at all the way he usually speaks to me as he takes the bottle from my hand, opens it, and hands it back. “This has got him written all over it, Ash.”
“Really, Finn—” I groan as my stomach churns, and I chug the soda. Bad move. Really bad move. I drop down onto a kitchen chair and snuggle Kyrie, hoping like hell this will pass.
