“Thank you.” I can feel heat flush across my face. He steps closer, and I realize my whole body is vibrating with this restless energy I can’t seem to shake.
Jake must see it, because he reaches out, his hand finding mine. His fingers thread through mine slowly, deliberately, and the warmth of his palm against mine steadies something inside me I didn’t know was wobbling.
“Is this okay?” he asks quietly.
I look down at our hands, then back up at him. There’s no pressure in his expression. No expectation. Just that steady presence that’s been showing up for weeks now, asking for nothing but offering everything.
I nod, giving him a small smile. “Yeah. It’s okay.”
His thumb brushes over my knuckles, just once, and the gesture is so gentle it creates a cluster of flutters in my stomach. “We’re checking on our perfectly healthy baby today. And whatever we find out about the sex, it’s gonna be perfect too.”
“You sound very confident.”
“I’m faking it.” His mouth quirks.
Despite everything, I laugh. And just like that, the tension in my shoulders eases. Just having him here settles something in me.
“You ready?” he asks.
“I am now.” And it’s true.
We walk through check-in, the waiting room, the normal pre-appointment choreography. Fifteen minutes later, I’mlying back in the dim exam room, cold gel on my stomach, Jake beside me.
“So today’s the anatomy scan,” the tech chirps. “We’ll check all the organs, measurements, overall growth. And if you want to know the sex, we can absolutely look for that too.”
“We want to know,” I say before she even finishes the sentence.
Jake nods. “Definitely.”
The wand hits my stomach. I flinch. Jake reaches for my hand without looking away from the screen. His fingers slide around mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
And suddenly we see the baby.
The tech provides a running commentary as she moves the wand, but I’m barely hearing the words. The baby is stretching, curling, flexing tiny limbs that don’t feel so tiny anymore.
“Everything looks great,” she says. “Strong heartbeat, good organ development, measuring perfectly.”
Jake releases a low exhale, like all the air in his lungs has been waiting for this update. His jaw clenches with emotion but also with something steadier. Relief. Awe.
Then the tech beams at us. “Ready to find out what you’re having?”
Jake looks at me. I look at him. Something sparks between us, warm and alive and terrifying.
“Yes,” we say together.
The tech moves the wand, angling for cooperation. The seconds stretch. My heart tries to escape through my throat.
“There it is,” she announces. “Congratulations. You’re having a girl.”
A girl.
My lungs forget how to function. I stare at the screen, then at Jake. His eyes lock with mine, and the smile that spreads across his face is pure, unfiltered joy. The kind that pushes color into his cheeks and makes the corners of his eyes crinkle. He looks like someone just handed him the entire world on a silver platter.
“A girl,” he says again, like he wants to make absolutely sure he heard the tech right. His voice drops a little, steady but almost reverent, eyes still locked on me. “We’re having a daughter.”
The words land somewhere in the center of my chest and hit a switch I didn’t know existed. Something warm rises up and I have to shift, sitting up a little so I don’t accidentally leak emotions all over the ultrasound machine. He moves to help me up and every touch, every gesture sends electricity through me.
We clean up and the tech hands us the printouts. Jake thanks her with a voice that sounds like he’s still half breathless. The walk out of the building feels unreal and by the time we reach the parking lot, my heart still hasn’t settled. I turn to him and say the first thing my brain can manage. “We’re having a daughter.”
