Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHARLIE
“ T here’s your baby,” the doctor said, her tone warm as she pressed the wand against Emma’s exposed belly.
I’d been expecting graining black and white images. Instead, the picture was surprisingly clear. I leaned forward, my breath catching as I made out the distinct shape of a tiny human.
“That’s really our baby?” I asked, my voice thick with emotion.
The doctor smiled knowingly. “Yes, it is. Let me point out some details for you.”
As her finger moved across the screen, outlining the head, the tiny arms and legs, tears welled in my eyes. Holy shit. That was our baby. Our actual, real-life, growing-inside-Emma baby.
“Look at those little fingers,” I whispered, a ridiculous smile spreading across my face. I turned to Emma, overwhelmed with emotion. “Can you believe it?”
Her eyes were wide, filled with a mix of wonder and shock. Before I could think better of it, I leaned over and kissed her full on the lips.
It was brief, just a peck really, but it felt like touching a live wire. Her breath caught, her body tensing for a split second before she relaxed into me. For that brief moment, everything else faded away.
We were back in New York, the night stretched out before us, seemingly endless. No complications. No strings. No future.
Except you wanted the future.
Yeah, part of me had, but what would we have done? Dated long distance, rarely seen each other because we were both workaholics? It would have never worked.
But now, I wished I’d leapt and taken the chance that it would have.
I pulled back and reality crashed over me. What was I doing? We’d agreed to keep things platonic, to focus on co-parenting. She couldn’t leave me if we didn’t have a romantic relationship for me to fuck up.
She stared at me, her mouth slightly open in surprise, her cheeks flushed a deep pink. Her fingers touched her lips, as if trying to hold onto the sensation.
“I’m sorry. I got carried away and…”
Smooth move. Real fucking smooth.
She blinked, dazed. Her mouth opened as if to say something, but no words came out. The air between us crackled with unspoken tension.
“Would you like to hear the heartbeat?” the doctor asked, saving me from my own awkwardness.
I nodded eagerly, aware that Emma was watching me with a knowing smile. Had she heard it before?
Of course she had. They would have checked everything out in New York. The realisation that she’d experienced this without me, that she’d had to find out alone, pierced me with a sharp stab of regret. I shoved it aside.
I was here now, and that’s what mattered.
The second she’d left my office, I’d had my assistant chasing down every possible connection we could use to our advantage. The dietitian was the first call, then this doctor’s office.
Some men had a little black book filled with fuck buddies. I now had one filled with paediatricians, gynaecologists, family therapists, play centres, elementary schools and more. Before I got home, I’d already booked us spots on a parenting course I knew Shaun and Mona Martin were using and submitted our interest for the best nursery and elementary school in LA. If my assistant was to be believed, it was never too early to start booking things.
Maybe I was losing my mind, but nothing could go wrong. I wouldn’t allow it.
I held my breath as the doctor flipped a switch, and the room filled with a rapid, whooshing sound.
Thump-thump-thump-thump.
My eyes widened, and a lump formed in my throat. “Is that...?”
“That’s your baby’s heartbeat.” The doctor smiled.
Joy surged through me, quickly followed by a wave of emotion so strong it nearly knocked me off my feet. Tears spilled down my cheeks, and I didn’t even try to hide them.
I was going to be a father.
Then fear sunk its claws into me. What if I screwed this up and she left me? Emma would never forgive me. I would never forgive myself.
I glanced at her, unable to keep my eyes off her. She blinked rapidly, fighting back tears. Apparently I’d learned nothing today because without thinking, I reached out and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. To my relief, she squeezed back.
Having her move in had been... an adjustment, to say the least. I’d gotten used to the freedom of coming and going as I pleased. But now there was Emma, with her meticulous organisation and her habit of humming while she worked.
I’d tried to be a good host, to make her feel welcome. I’d cut back on my work hours, determined not to be the absentee father my own dad had been. I’d learned to cook her favourite meals, surprising even myself with my new repertoire of dishes. I’d stocked the cupboards with all her most loved things, including an almost endless array of decaffeinated teas.
But the last week had also been an exercise in restraint.
She was a constant temptation, even in the most innocent moments. From the way she padded around the kitchen in the morning, hair mussed from sleep wearing nothing but tiny shorts and a strap top, to the sound of her laughter echoing through the house when she was on the phone with Lila. Everything about her drew me in. I found myself looking for excuses to be near her, to make her smile, to hear her voice.
It was torture of the sweetest kind.
And sometimes not so sweet…
Take the morning she’d caught me coming out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel. The look in her eyes had been... intense. Hungry, even. It had taken every ounce of willpower I possessed not to drop that towel right then and there.
But I had to be strong. My stupidity with the condoms had already changed her life.
Emma’s grip on my hand tightened and fresh tears spilled from her eyes. Without hesitation, I sat on the edge of the exam table, tucking her into my side, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. She cuddled into me, burying her face in my shirt as she sobbed.
“These are happy tears, right?” I asked, my tone hesitant.
“Yes.” She chuckled, the sound choked with emotion. She eased back, sniffling as she brushed her fingertips across her damp cheeks. “It’s incredible.”
She stared at the screen again, a hazy look entering her glistening eyes. My chest ached and I couldn’t even begin to explain why.
As we listened to the steady rhythm of our baby’s heartbeat, a wave of emotion crashed over me. Love, fierce and protective, surged through my veins. This tiny life, no bigger than a peanut, was ours. The enormity of it all hit me like a freight train.
I might not have planned any of this, but I’d be damned if I failed.
“The baby’s heart looks perfect,” the doctor said. “Everything is developing beautifully.”
“Really?” I asked, my voice cracking. “Everything’s okay?”
She nodded reassuringly. “Absolutely. Your baby is healthy and growing exactly as it should be.”
“That’s great news.” My shoulders sagged with relief. “See? Our little peanut is a fighter, just like its mom.”
Emma rolled her eyes, but a smile played at her lips. “Peanut? Really?”
I shrugged, grinning. “Well, it does look like a peanut right now. But don’t worry, we’ll come up with a better nickname once it starts looking more human and less legume-like.”
“You’re ridiculous.” She laughed, the sound warming me from the inside out.
“Only for you.” I winked at her, falling easily into our usual banter. It felt good, normal, even as everything around us was changing.
The doctor glanced between us. “Would you like to know the sex of the baby?”
“You can tell already?” Emma asked, tinged with surprise.
She nodded. “We can make an educated guess, though it’s not 100% certain.”
I turned to Emma, struggling to find the right words. “Do you... I mean, do we want to know? I realise we haven’t discussed this.”
Emma bit her lip, looking hesitant. “Actually, if it’s okay with you, I’d rather wait. Make it a surprise?”
Relief flooded through me. “Yeah, that sounds perfect. Let’s wait.”
“That's fine.” The doctor smiled, but her expression quickly turned serious. “Now, Emma, how has your hyperemesis gravidarum been? Any improvement?”
Emma sighed. “It’s not much better, but I’m managing to keep more water down at least.”
“That's good to hear,” the doctor said. “We’ll continue to monitor it closely and do some more tests before you leave today to check your hydration and nutrition.”
While the doctor talked to Emma about her condition, my mind was still reeling. There was so much we needed to figure out — our living situation, our relationship (or lack thereof), how we were going to balance our careers with parenthood. But in that moment, looking at our baby on the screen, none of that seemed to matter.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the image of our child. Those tiny hands, the curve of the spine, the rounded head — it was all so perfect, so miraculous. I found myself imagining holding this little person, teaching them to walk, to talk, to laugh, to skate. The future stretched out before me, filled with possibilities I’d never dared to dream of before.
“Here you go.” The doctor held out a small envelope to me. “Your baby’s first photos.”
I took it with trembling hands. Carefully, I pulled out the black and white ultrasound pictures. They were clear and detailed, showing our baby from different angles. To me, they were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
I stared at the images, tracing the outline of our little one with my finger. “I can’t believe we made this,” I murmured, the words escaping me on a shaky breath. “Our perfect little... peanut.”
She laughed again, the sound music to my ears. “You’re really sticking with peanut, huh?”
I grinned at her, feeling lighter than I had in weeks. “For now. We can workshop it, come up with something better. How about ‘the reason mommy can’t keep down her breakfast’?”
“Charming,” Emma deadpanned, but amusement danced in her eyes.