Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Noah
Iswear I can hear my own heartbeat thundering in my ears, matching the rhythmic, rapid whoosh of the baby’s heartbeat echoing through the room. Doctor Willis’s voice is calm, but it might as well be a drumroll with the way my nerves are on edge.
The screen flickers, the faint shape of our baby shifting into view, but my focus is split between the monitor and Josy’s hand in mine. Her grip is tight, her breathing slow and measured, but I know her well enough to see she’s holding back a rush of emotions.
And me? I’m desperate. Desperate to know if we’re having a boy or a girl. Desperate to know who’s going to change our lives forever.
The seconds stretch like hours until—
“It’s a girl.”
A girl.
The words land in my chest like a soft punch, knocking the air out of me. For a moment, all I can do is stare at the screen where our daughter—our daughter—rests so perfectly still, like she’s listening in on this big reveal. A girl.
I let out the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding and turn to Josy.
She’s already looking at me, her brown eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears, and that’s it—I’m done for.
I lean down without even thinking and press my lips softly against hers, a kiss that’s full of everything I can’t quite put into words. Relief. Joy. Love.
When I pull back, I whisper, “We’re having a princess, and she’s going to be so beautiful. Just like you, sweetheart.”
Josy’s lips wobble into a smile as her tears finally spill over, tracing delicate paths down her cheeks. Her hand squeezes mine again, and I reach up to gently wipe one of her tears away with my thumb.
“Our princess Everly,” she says softly, her voice breaking just enough to tug at something deep inside me.
God, I love this woman.
I grin, the kind of smile I know probably makes me look like a fool, but I don’t care. Not right now. “Yes. Thanks for letting me pick her name.” I pause, my voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Everly is going to be so spoiled.”
Josy’s laugh bursts out before she can stop it, a watery, joyful sound that echoes in my chest. I can’t help but join in, the two of us laughing like a couple of kids while the doctor continues her measurements and takes pictures. But we don’t notice. Not really.
Because in this tiny room, with the faint sound of our baby’s heartbeat in the background and Josy’s hand in mine, it’s just us. The three of us.
“Here’s a profile picture for you both.” Doctor Willis interrupts our little bubble as she freezes the screen and points out our daughter’s tiny features—her nose, her hands curled into little fists. “Your little girl looks perfect.”
Perfect.
I look at Josy again, at the necklace I gave her resting just above the collar of her shirt and the smile she can’t seem to stop. She catches me staring and raises a brow. “What?”
I shake my head, my grin softening. “Nothing. Just happy.”
Her eyes soften as she gives me the smallest nod, her thumb brushing over my knuckles. I feel it then—the tiniest flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, Josy believes this too. That we could really work.
As we leave the doctor’s office, the sonogram pictures safely tucked into Josy’s hand, I keep my hand on the small of her back, guiding her toward the parking lot. The cool January air greets us, and I glance at her sideways, catching her smile as she looks down at the pictures again.
“Everly,” I say aloud, letting the name settle over us. “You sure you’re okay with it?”
She looks up at me, her brown eyes warm. “It’s perfect.”
Perfect.
And just like that, I know this little girl—our Everly—will be the luckiest kid in the world.
Because she’s got a mom like Josy.
And I’ll spend every single day making sure she knows just how loved she is.
I adjust the last balloon on the wall and step back, crossing my arms to take it all in.
Austin’s living room looks like a full-blown birthday explosion—balloons everywhere, streamers dangling from the ceiling, and the big Happy Birthday banner hanging just above the dining table.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think we were throwing a party for a five-year-old.
But Josy deserves the world, and for now, this is the best we can do.
“Man, I think we overdid it with the balloons.” Austin’s voice breaks through my thoughts as he stands by the couch, blowing up another one just for the hell of it. “I swear it’s like a balloon minefield in here.”
“Nah.” Esteban is strutting in from the kitchen with a mischievous grin. “It’s perfect. Girls like this cute crap. Trust me.”
I roll my eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. “Josy isn’t a girl; she’s a woman. And this isn’t just ‘cute crap.’ She deserves to be celebrated.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Esteban waves a hand at me dismissively, then suddenly brightens. “Oh! I almost forgot!” He hurries toward the kitchen, leaving me and Austin staring after him. A minute later, he comes back holding the cake box like it’s a treasure chest. “Check this out.”
He flips open the lid and the smell of vanilla and rum hits me immediately. The cake is covered in thick white frosting that’s swirled to perfection, and I swear I’ve never seen a cake look so good. Esteban beams like a kid on Christmas morning.
“My mom’s masterpiece—Puerto Rican birthday cake. I told her she couldn’t let me down for Josy.”
Austin whistles low, stepping closer for a look. “Damn. That looks like it came straight out of a bakery. You sure your mom didn’t steal this from somewhere?”
Esteban glares at him. “Don’t disrespect my mom’s skills, man.”
“Sorry. I’m fucking with you. But for real, thanks. It’s been a long time since I’ve had your mom’s cake.”
“It hasn’t been that long.” Esteban raises an eyebrow, like he’s offended I’d even suggest such a thing. “You had it last September at my birthday. Besides, you know Mami can bake you a cake whenever you want. All you have to do is ask.”
Austin jumps in from across the room. “I’m asking now. Tell her I need one for Valentine’s Day. Oh, and maybe some of those Nutella puff pastries while she’s at it.”
Esteban lets out a dramatic groan, though his smirk gives him away. “Bro, I’m not running a bakery out of my mom’s kitchen.”
“Why not?” Austin shoots back with a grin. “She’d make a killing.”
I shake my head, chuckling as their back-and-forth escalates. Typical. But it’s true, Esteban’s mom really could give any bakery a run for its money. Her cakes are legendary, soft and moist with the kind of flavor that makes you stop mid-bite to savor it.
Esteban may have been born here, but he’s always been proud of his roots.
His parents came straight from Puerto Rico and Esteban still flies to the island at least once a year to visit family.
He’ll spend weeks there, eating his weight in arroz con gandules and tostones and posting pictures of pristine beaches that make me jealous as hell.
The man speaks perfect Spanish too. Not just the formal stuff you’d hear in high school classes, but the quick, sharp flow of the island, full of slang and rhythm.
Sometimes I forget he’s bilingual until he smashes his hand with a hammer or cuts himself on the job site.
That’s when the Spanish curses start flying—fast, loud, and colorful.
By now, I’ve learned enough to know exactly what he’s yelling about when he stubs his toe.
“Just wait until Josy tries this cake,” Esteban says, snapping me out of my thoughts. “It’ll blow her mind. No one bakes and cooks like Mami.”
He’s not wrong. Esteban’s mom can cook like it’s her life’s calling. I’m talking food that warms your soul and makes you want to lick the plate clean.
I glance at the cake again, perfectly frosted and sitting on the table like it’s just waiting for someone to ruin it with the first cut.
Josy’s been working herself to the bone on the coffee shop, juggling a million things at once. She never stops, never lets herself pause long enough to celebrate anything. But tonight? Tonight’s different.
Tonight, she gets to enjoy herself.
I glance at my watch. “Violet just texted me. They’re leaving the shop now. We’ve got about fifteen minutes.”
“Perfect timing.” Austin grabs a small soccer ball balloon and ties it to the back of a chair, grinning. “Adrian’s gonna love this when he sees it.”
I smirk. “Josy might roll her eyes, but she’ll love it too.”
“She’ll love all of this,” Esteban says, clapping me on the back. “Especially that cake. It’s gonna blow her mind.”
I hope so. God, I hope so. I’ve spent weeks watching Josy overwork herself, barely pausing long enough to eat or rest, let alone celebrate anything. The shop’s been her focus, and every time I try to take something off her plate, she swats my hand away—figuratively and literally.
But tonight’s different. She doesn’t know it yet, but tonight she doesn’t have to be in charge of anything.
A loud honk from outside breaks through the conversation.
Violet’s car. I don’t have to check my phone to know they’ve arrived.
My heart kicks up a notch as Austin and Esteban rush to their spots—Austin by the light switch and Esteban crouching awkwardly behind the counter like a five-year-old playing hide-and-seek.
“Dude, she’s not gonna be looking for you,” I mutter to him, but he just grins and stays put.
The door opens, and I hear Violet’s voice first, loud and cheerful. “Come on, Josy! I told you it’s just a quick dinner.”
Josy’s response is muffled, but I can practically hear her skepticism. “Violet, why do you sound like you’re up to something?”
The second Josy steps inside, Austin flips the lights on.
“SURPRISE!”
The shouts echoe through the room, and I catch the exact moment Josy freezes in place. Her wide eyes dart over the decorations, the balloons, the banner—and finally land on me. I can’t stop the grin that spreads across my face as I step forward.
“Happy birthday, sweetheart.”
Josy blinks, clearly overwhelmed. “What is this?” Her voice is soft, almost disbelieving.
“Your birthday party,” I say, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Did you really think we’d let the day slide by without celebrating you?”
She shakes her head slowly, a smile starting to curve her lips. “Violet told me we were just—”
“Violet lied.” Esteban pops out from his hiding spot, arms spread wide. “You’re welcome.”
Josy laughs, finally breaking out of her stunned daze. She turns to Violet, who shrugs innocently. “You deserve this,” Violet says. “Don’t fight it.”
Before Josy can say anything else, Esteban moves Josy to the dining table where the cake sits proudly on the table. “And this, Josy, is my mom’s masterpiece. Best Puerto Rican cake you’ll ever have in your life.”
Her brow furrows as she stares at the cake. “Puerto Rican cake?”
“You’ve never had it before,” I tell her, coming up beside her, “but trust me, you’re going to love it.”
She looks up at me then, and I swear the way her eyes soften knocks the air right out of my lungs. “All of this… you guys didn’t have to—”
“But we wanted to,” I interrupt, holding her gaze. “I wanted to.”
“Besides, we love you Aunt Josy,” Adrian says as he hugs her.
“I love you more, little dude,” Josy responds.
Her smile stretches wider, and she reaches for my hand.
“Thank you, Noah,” she whispers.
Before I can respond, Esteban claps his hands together. “Enough talking! Let’s eat dinner so we can have some cake.”
Josy laughs, and just like that, the room fills with noise and life—Austin cracking jokes, Esteban going on about his mom’s baking secrets, and Violet playfully trying to referee Adrian, who’s already trying to pop the balloons. But through it all, I keep my eyes on Josy.
She’s smiling. Laughing. Letting herself enjoy this moment.