“I should’ve known you wouldn’t listen,” she mutters, stepping aside.
When she angles to the side, my breathing stalls out completely. She’s in a pair of jeans and a white tee that’s ridden up a little, giving me a glimpse of her bump. It’s small but already so evident.
She’s carrying my baby.Ourbaby.
“Hayden?”
I blink out of my stupor and act casual, swaggering into her apartment. “These are for you.” I hold out the bouquet. “I hope you like them.”
She breaks into a broad smile as she takes the flowers. “It’s like you peeked inside my head and found exactly what I’d want.” Cheeks pink, she meets my eyes. “Thank you so much. They are perfect.”
“Just like you,” I say. I can’t help myself.
Head thrown back, she laughs. “Okay, that line was too much.” She heads for the kitchen, peering at me over her shoulder. “Wait here, please. I’ll put them in water, and then we can go.”
“Sure.” I prop my shoulder against the wall.
When she returns, her eyes glimmer with happiness. “I’m ready.”
“Then let’s go.”
Riley goesinto the exam room alone. Wanting to respect any need for privacy she might have, I never insist on joining her. I’m just here to support.
But that doesn’t stop me from blowing out a relieved breath when a nurse calls me back.
The room is dim, the monitor humming already, Riley reclined on the exam table.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Hale,” Dr. Bell greets me. “Come on in.”
I nod, though it’s a challenge. My neck is stiff, like all my muscles have locked up. As I move closer, Riley lifts her tee, putting her bump on display.
My heart thuds in my ears. How is it possible this tiny swell already feels bigger than the entire world?
“Ready to see your baby?” Dr. Bell asks.
“Absolutely,” Riley murmurs.
I’m too nervous to utter a word.
Dr. Bell squirts clear gel onto Riley’s stomach then picks up a wand attached to the sonogram machine. Between one breath and the next, the steady, strongthump-thump-thumpof our baby’s heartbeat echoes around us. It’s like Bo on the drum kit, creating a rhythmic pattern. I don’t realize I’m gripping the armrest until my knuckles ache.
Dr. Bell tilts the wand. “Your baby looks perfectly healthy.” She points at the grainy image on the screen. “Strong heartbeat. And…” She pauses, glancing at us. “Would you like to know the sex?”
When Riley looks up at me and nods, a bolt of excitement courses through me. I smile at her then fix my focus on Dr. Bell. “Yes.”
“In that case, congratulations! It’s a girl.”
The world falls away for a moment. A girl. Our girl. Our daughter.
I study the blurry outline on the screen, the curve of her head, her tiny spine. Warmth courses through my veins, setting my skin on fire. My eyes burn with tears. I’ve played sold-out arenas, and I’ve stood in front of tens of thousands of screaming fans, but nothing feels as overwhelming, as incredible, as this moment.
It’s a miracle. It’s the best gift this life could’ve given me. All the awards, all the fans, all the money are great, sure, but I’ve never been happier than I am now. It’s like my whole world went quiet and thenerupted into a million different sounds, making a beautiful, perfect song about my daughter.
I clasp Riley’s hand, and instead of pulling away, she squeezes gently, her gaze still glued to the screen.
“She’s beautiful,” I whisper, more to myself than anyone else, as Dr. Bell continues to explain what she sees on her screen and gives the measurements to the nurse.
“And she’s ours,” Riley whispers.
