Montana Haven: A Small Town Surprise Pregnancy Romance

23. ~ Jake ~

I stand in the hospital room, my heart swelled with a mixture of exhilaration and a twinge of nervousness.

While lying gracefully in the hospital bed, Mia wears a smile that could light up the darkest nights.

She”s watching me scurry around the room, bustling like a bee, ensuring that every card, balloon, and assortment of gifts our friends and family brought is safely packed away.

Our new little world, bundled in pink, lies serenely in her arms, oblivious to the flurry of activity around her.

”Mia, have we got everything?” I ask, double-checking the contents of our bags. I want this departure to be perfect, ensuring we leave only the memories of Faith”s first days.

Mia giggles a sound that warms the corners of my soul. ”Jake, relax. You”ve checked those bags three times now. I think we”re more than ready,” she says, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

I can”t help but chuckle, the tension easing from my muscles. ”I just want to make sure that nothing is left behind,” I admit, finally sitting beside her on the bed and taking in the sight of our daughter.

Gently, almost reverentially, I extend my arms towards Mia, who places our daughter into them with a soft smile.

The sensation of holding her, this tiny emblem of our love and future, is indescribable.

Her delicate features, a perfect blend of Mia and me, captivate me entirely. I lean down, whispering so only she can hear. ”It”s me, your daddy again.”

The world outside this moment fades insignificantly as I look into her peaceful face. Her tiny hand, with fingers so small and perfect, curls around one of mine, grip surprisingly strong.

”You have no idea how much love awaits you out here,” I tell her, my voice thick with emotion. In her, I see not just the baby she is now but echoes of the future—her first steps, her first words, and the countless firsts we”ll share.

Mia watches us, her expression a mix of joy and a profound love that anchors the room. ”She”s going to be a daddy”s girl, isn”t she?” she teases, but her voice holds a note of contentment that only makes me love her more.

”I certainly hope so,” I concede, smiling back at her but unable to tear my eyes away from Faith for long.

”But no matter what, I”ll always be here for you, little one,” I whisper, directing my words toward the baby. “I”ll guide you, protect you, and celebrate you through every fall, every triumph, every tear, and every laugh.”

In this quiet hospital room, with the soft murmur of machines and the distant hum of life outside, I make unspoken promises to Faith.

I promise to teach her about kindness, courage, and the importance of chasing her dreams, no matter how out of reach they may seem. I vow to show her the beauty in simplicity, in quiet moments like this one, and in the loud chaos that life sometimes throws our way.

The emotions swirling within me are a tumultuous sea of love, hope, and an overwhelming desire to be the best father. I know there will be challenges ahead, moments of worry, frustration, and doubt, but as I gaze into Faith”s serene face, I realize she is the beacon that will guide us through.

”I love you, Faith,” I say softly, imprinting this moment into the depths of my memory. ”More than you”ll ever know.”

And as I hold her, with Mia beside me and the future stretching out before us like the unwritten pages of the most beautiful story, I understand what true happiness means. It”s not just in the grand gestures of life but in the quiet, unassuming moments of gentle love and new beginnings, just like this one.

Suddenly, the room fills with the soft knocking of our nurse, Lisa, carrying the discharge papers in her arms. ”Looks like you”re all set to head home.” She smiles warmly at us.

I gently take the discharge papers from Lisa”s hands, feeling excited and nervous.

”Thank you,” I manage to say, my voice thick with emotion. I carefully place the papers in the bag we”ve packed with Faith”s new little outfits and the countless congratulatory cards we”ve received over the last few days.

Rushing out of the hospital room, I can”t help but glance back at Mia and Faith, a surge of protectiveness washing over me. The hallway seems longer than I remember, echoing with my quick steps.

Reaching my car, parked out front, I unlock the trunk and carefully place the bags inside. Every action feels monumental, a part of this significant day that marks the beginning of our new life as a family.

I hurry back into the hospital, barely noticing the familiar surroundings as my focus narrows to bringing Mia and our daughter safely home. Mia looks up as I enter, a smile spreading across her tired face.

”Ready?” Though it”s more of a rhetorical question, I ask it—of course, we”re ready. We”ve been prepared for this moment since we first knew about Faith.

Gently, I lift Faith into her car seat, ensuring she”s snug and secure, a tiny hand wrapped around my finger for a moment. Then, I help Mia to her feet and into the passenger seat, ensuring she”s comfortable before closing the door softly behind her.

With a deep breath, I slide into the driver”s seat, glance at Faith, and with a heart whole of love and a mind full of dreams for our future, I pull off.

The quiet hum of the car seems to lull Faith into a serene state, her breaths soft and rhythmic.

”I”m excited about you and Emily moving in with Dylan and me,” I say, smiling at Mia. ”We”ve got everything set up for Faith, and Dylan can”t wait for Emily to move into the bedroom across the hall from him permanently.”

Mia”s smile fades, replaced by a look of confusion. ”Jake, no offense but you’re talking like this is a permanent decision. I thought when we discussed us moving in, it would be temporarily. At least until the baby is six months and then we’d see where our relationship is at that point.”

My heart skips a beat, my grip on the steering wheel tightening. ”But I assumed...” I trail off, realizing the depth of our miscommunication. ”I just thought that this was a permanent decision, especially with our relationship and us having a baby now. Dylan and I have been preparing everything for weeks to make sure that this feels like your home too.”

Mia”s tone hardens her protective instincts in full flare. ”Jake, I appreciate everything you”ve done, but us permanently making your home into ours I need to figure out what”s best for us, and we still need to give our relationship proper time to see if it even works with us living together for the long haul.”

The air between us grows thick, a tumultuous silence broken only by the sound of tires rolling across the pavement. I glance back at Faith, peacefully unaware of her parents” tension.

Turning my attention back to the road, I grapple with the magnitude of our misunderstanding. I had envisioned us starting our new life together under one roof, a blended family with love at its foundation.

”I just wanted what”s best for all of us, especially for Faith. I thought being together, in one place, would be it,” I say, my voice laden with emotion.

Mia sighs, a long, weary exhalation that seems to carry the weight of her world. ”I understand, I really do, but you have to keep in mind that our relationship is somewhat still new. The baby is a blessing but she wasn’t planned. It’s like we rekindled and then I ended up pregnant. Let’s just see how it feels with us all living together before suggesting we make it permanent.”

I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks, frustration and disbelief swirling.

”The pregnancy was nine months, Mia. I believe there’s been plenty of time spent, especially with you and Emily at the house, where you can determine at this point if you’re comfortable living there or not.”

My voice is sharper than intended, reflecting the hurt puncturing through my initial shock.

Mia meets my tone, unflinching.

”But have we lived together with a newborn? Let’s just see how it goes, Jake, please? I don’t want to fight. I just think we should focus on the present and the now. You’re already thinking towards the future when our daughter is a few days old.”

My grip on the steering wheel tightens, the leather creaking under my fingers. ”But I thought a future together is what we both wanted?” I can”t hide the doubt in my voice, baffled by her resistance to what I saw as a clear path forward for us.

”Just seems to me like you’re hesitating on our future, is all.”

The car”s interior feels smaller, constricted by the gravity of our argument.

“A future usually means tomorrow and the time after that. Can we please just focus on today? On the present? I believe already thinking about the future right now will just stress both of us out” Mia responds, her voice steady but the undercurrent of frustration is so evident.

I can”t help but feel cornered and misunderstood. ”What’s stressing me out is you turning a joyous moment into a sour one. You’re picking a fight about how you’re thinking of the stay as being temporary for now. Couldn’t we have discussed this on another day?”

Her sigh is audible, the space between us widening despite the confinement of the car. ”It”s not just that, Jake. It”s the presumption, the absence of my input in our lives. You’re making assumptions about things I consider to be big decisions.”

The remainder of the journey fluctuates between tense quiet and our efforts to close the unexpected gap with words that, paradoxically, seem to expand it even more.

With every mile we cover, the distance grows—not just the physical distance but also the gap between what we expected and what is real.