Chapter 11

chapter eleven

Daisy

We woke up late.

The two insomniacs who’ve had clandestine midnight kitchen meetings since we’ve been cohabitating, overslept. We woke up not wrapped up in each other, like you read about in some books. But somehow we were holding hands.

I wasn’t sure how the morning would go after me sleep molesting him last night and then him eating me out like it was an Olympic sport. He legitimately won the Gold, just so we’re clear on that.

I’m not one to compare lovers. Especially since I’ve had exactly two and Beau and I haven’t even had actual sex yet. But Timothy went down on me a few times and he was so persnickety about everything—the taste, the smell, the hair. It made me self-conscious and I never could get into it. I probably should have known then that he was a selfish ass.

But I’d just assumed that guys who really enjoyed that sort of thing only lived in romance novels.

I glance over at Beau’s profile. We’re sitting in the waiting room at the doctor’s office. Beau’s legs jiggle as he sits and looks around at all the diagrams on the wall of the female reproductive system.

“You could have waited in your truck,” I tell him. “I’m sorry if this is making you uncomfortable.”

He looks at me. “I’m not uncomfortable. Did you want me to go wait outside? You had mentioned being nervous, so I guess I assumed you wanted me to go in there with you.”

“That is what I wanted. But only if it’s not weird for you.”

He cups my face and gives me a sweet smile and holy dimples, Batman, I am in so much trouble. My stupid, stupid heart is falling for this big guy, but this is a non-starter.

No man is going to want to hitch his wagon to my proverbial cart. Especially when I’m having another man’s baby.

This thing between me and Beau is clearly just insane sexual chemistry.

“Daisy Harrington,” the technician calls from the doorway.

I stand and hold my hand out to Beau. I do want him in there with me. I’m tired of trying to be brave all the time and do all of this alone. There will be plenty of time later for me to buck up and be a good single mom. Right now I want at least the illusion of having a partner.

He threads our fingers together and we follow the tech back to the exam room. It’s a special room for the 3D scanner.

The lights in the ultrasound room are dimmed low, a soft glow surrounding the high-tech equipment. I lie back on the exam table, tugging my shirt up over the curve of my belly. Beau sits down beside me and takes my hand again like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The technician—a kind-looking woman with silver-framed glasses and a calming voice—smiles as she pulls on gloves.

“Alright, we’re going to take a look at your little one today. Dad, are you ready?”

Beau stiffens for half a second, then glances at me. I expect him to correct her. But he doesn’t, instead he nods.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, voice gravelly but warm. “Been ready.”

My chest squeezes tight. I don’t look at him, I can’t.

Cool gel smears across my skin, making me shiver. The wand presses down, and suddenly the screen flickers to life with grainy gray movement.

“There’s baby,” the tech says. She clicks and scans, clicks and scans again. “So far, everything is measuring just right.”

Beau leans forward, his eyes wide. “That’s… that’s the baby? That little thing’s moving so much already? No wonder you can’t sleep at night.”

The tech chuckles. “That’s your baby kicking up a storm.” She moves the wand and Nugget does some kind of ninja move. The tech laughs again. “Somebody’s got a lot of energy.”

Beau lets out a low, astonished laugh, and I feel it rumble through his chest, where our arms are brushing. “She’s doing somersaults in there,” he murmurs, his voice clearly in awe.

“She?” I ask him.

He shrugs. “She feels like a she.”

“So you’re not seeing something on there that I’m not, right?” I ask, searching the gray static-filled screen again.

The tech moves the wand, narrating as she goes. “Here’s the spine. Look at that beautiful alignment. And the heart—all four chambers looking good, Mom. Definitely a strong, fast heartbeat.”

She hits a button and suddenly the room fills with the whoosh-whoosh of my baby’s heartbeat. Tears prick at my eyes.

“Whoa. That is fast,” Beau whispers.

“Perfectly normal,” the tech says. “Strong and steady. That’s what we like to see. And here’s the profile—look at that nose! Dad, she’s got your chin.”

Beau blinks, startled. “Mine?” His eyes are locked on the screen as he looks at my baby’s sweet profile.

The tech keeps going, naming off femurs, stomach, kidneys, a perfectly curved skull. Beau never looks away. His mouth parts slightly, and he’s got this expression—like he’s witnessing something sacred.

“Do we want to know the sex? Because I think we’re in a perfect position to see,” the tech says.

“Yes, please,” I say.

The screen shifts again, the tech clicks and the image freezes. It’s like looking up at the baby from below. “See these two lines that look like an equal sign?” the tech asks.

I nod.

“Well, it looks like Dad was right. You’re definitely having a girl.”

Beau makes this sound, half laugh, half choke. He scrapes his hat off his head and runs a hand through his hair, then puts the hat back on.

“A girl,” I echo.

“Is that what you wanted?” Beau asks.

Before I can answer though, the tech has printed out a series of pictures for us and is clicking away on the machine. “Congratulations,” she says. “Your daughter looks absolutely perfect.”

My daughter.

The tech hands me a towel to clean off my belly and then tells me I’m done. She closes the door as she leaves the room.

Beau looks over at me, and I can’t even describe what’s in his eyes—something reverent, like I’m holy and terrifying all at once. He lifts my hand and presses his lips to my knuckles.

“You made a girl,” he murmurs. “A whole little girl.”

I shake my head, overwhelmed. It’s on my tongue to remind him that my baby is half of Timothy’s, but I don’t even want to mention his name in this moment.

“She’s yours,” he says fiercely. “She’s gonna be the best damn thing that ever happened to this world.”

If ads affect your reading experience, click here to remove ads on this page.