Maybe this baby didn’t share my blood or DNA, but the moment that little girl kicked her mama’s stomach to say hi to me, she was mine. And I dared anyone to try to take her—or her mama—away from me.
The sound of her heartbeat pounded through my skull, drumming in time with my own racing pulse. Each thump hit like a hammer against my chest, stealing my breath.
I swallowed hard, and my brain short-circuited a little. “She’s really in there.”
Elena glanced at me, and even though she didn’t say anything, her fingers curled around mine. I squeezed back.
The sonographer moved the wand again. “There’s her spine… ribs… femur…”
“Jesus,” I muttered. “She’s got bones already?”
Elena turned to me, deadpan. “She’s six months along, Chase. She hasorgans. She pees.”
My brain stuttered to a halt, trying to process this new information. “She pees?Like... inside of you?”
Elena’s eyes sparkled with that know-it-all gleam I both loved and dreaded. Her fingers flexed against mine. “She’s gother own amniotic sac. It’s not like she’s just free-ballin’ in there.”
The medical jargon did nothing to settle my churning stomach. My throat tightened. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”
“She also swallows it.”
Blood drained from my face. “Elena. What the hell?”
She bit back a laugh, dimples appearing in her cheeks as she watched me squirm.
The sonographer busied herself with taking measurements, pretending not to eavesdrop.
“Technically she drinks it, then pees again. It’s a cycle.”
My free hand shot up, palm out. The room spun a bit at the edges. “Stop. Stop saying things.”
The sonographer finally laughed. “You’ll make a great girl dad.”
Elena smiled, but her eyes were a little glassy. “She’s healthy,” she whispered. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”
I leaned down and kissed the side of her head. “She’s perfect.”
Even if I had no clue what the hell was happening on that screen, or how Elena remembered so many science words. Even if all I could see was a blurry baby skeleton and freak out about her drinking her own pee. Even if I didn’t understand half of it, I knew this much: she was ours. And I wasn’t going anywhere.
Chapter Thirty-Five
ELENA
Now, December 2024
Don’t tellRosie I said so, but no one made a Belgian waffle quite like Emma Everton. They were so thick and fluffy, with deep, square pockets perfect for trapping all the delicious toppings she set out on the table. They were crisp on the outside, soft on the inside, and big enough to make a regular waffle question its self-worth.
A soft whisper tickled my ear. “Sure you don’t want to go for a third?” Chase asked, and the teasing tone I was so afraid he’d left behind with the drugs and alcohol made my heart skip.
On my plate was one waffle traditionally topped with butter and syrup and a second topped with strawberries, whipped cream, and a light chocolate drizzle.
“Look, growing a human is hard work,” I said. “I’m eating for two. Plus, there aren’t any other toppings to choose from.”
“Did you need something else, sweetheart?” Emma asked, already lifting from her seat across from me. “I’m sure I can dig up?—”
“No, really, this is plenty. Thank you.”
I shot a glare at the man on my left, who simply chuckled and dug in to his breakfast with a low moan. My cheeks heated when the sound registered straight in my core. Pregnancy not only made me hungry, but also really fucking horny, and it had been so long—too long.
