He points to something that could be literally anything on that grainy screen. "See this right here? Definitely a boy."
Holy fuck. A son. I'm having a son.
The realization lands deep in my gut, almost stealing my breath. This isn't some theoretical situation anymore—this is a little boy who'll grow up alongside Noble. Cousins close in age who'll either be best friends or mortal enemies, knowing how stubborn the James genes run.
A tiny person who'll need me to teach him everything from tying his shoes to riding a bike to throwing a football. Who'llwatch how I treat his mother and learn what it means to be a man. Who'll never know what it's like to have a father walk away when things get tough.
"A boy," Wren whispers, and I hear in her voice the same wonder vibrating through my bones. Her fingers tighten around mine, squeezing so hard it almost hurts, but I squeeze back just as hard.
Reed watches us for a moment, then quietly steps back. "I'll give you two a minute," he says, wiping the gel from Wren's stomach with more gentleness than I knew the guy possessed. "Take your time. I'll get some pictures printed for you."
The door clicks shut behind him, leaving us alone with the frozen image of our son on the screen.
Our son.
"You okay?" I ask Wren, suddenly aware that I'm still holding her hand in a death grip.
She nods, not looking at me. "It's just...real now. There's an actual person in there." Her free hand rests on her belly. "A little boy."
"Yeah." My voice comes out rougher than I intended. "A little boy."
Finally, she looks up at me, and the rawness in her eyes knocks the wind out of me. "What if I'm terrible at this? What if I screw him up?"
"You won't," I say with more confidence than I feel. "We won't."
"How do you know that?"
I squeeze her hand. "Because you're the most competent person I've ever met. Because you build things to last. Because you don't quit when things get hard." I pause, swallowing past the lump in my throat. "And because you've got me. And I'm not going anywhere."
Something shifts in her expression, a softening around the edges that makes her even more beautiful. For a second, I think she might cry.
Instead, she pulls her hand from mine and sits up, breaking the spell.
"Reed's probably waiting to finish up," she says, straightening her gown. "And we still need to go shopping after this."
Just like that, the walls are back up. But I caught a glimpse of what's behind them, and that's enough for now.
"Right," I say, stepping back to give her space. "Shopping."
The maternity store is a sea of pastels and pregnant mannequins without heads. They just cut off at the neck and it’s creepy as fuck. I feel like a bull in a China shop with my dark jeans and tattoos, especially when a sales associate eyes my ink with all kinds of judgment.
"Can I help you find something?" she asks, directing the question to Wren while casting sidelong glances at me like I might pocket a onesie when she's not looking.
"No, thanks," Wren says, already scanning the racks with that laser focus I've seen her use to dismantle my arguments at industry panels.
"Let me know if you need anything." The woman smiles too brightly. "We have a husband waiting area with comfortable chairs, if that would be more suitable."
I narrow my eyes. "I'm good right here with my wife, thanks."
The word "wife" slips out before I can catch it. Wren's head whips around, her eyes wide, but the salesperson just nods and retreats.
"Wife?" Wren hisses once we're alone.
"It shut her up, didn't it?" I shrug, pretending it meant nothing when we both know it meant something. "Besides, it’s true. Youaremy wife.” I eye her, daring her to say shit, but she doesn’t. And yeah, she’s still got that chain tucked into the neckline of my shirt she’s wearing. The one with my ring hangingon it she doesn’t know I know about. “Would you rather I told her how complicated shit is?"
She rolls her eyes, but there's a hint of amusement there. "Fair point. But don’t do it again.”
"No promises, Pink."
