Chapter 19 Felix
FELIX
I’m lurking in the parking lot of Skylark Women’s Health like some kind of stalker, which is not exactly how I pictured spending a Friday afternoon.
The plan is for me to wait out here until Piper texts me that it’s safe to sneak in through the back. She doesn’t want anyone at the clinic to see the Grizzlies’ high-profile new team member entering an OB/GYN office and start doing the math.
Smart, I guess. But it’s also making me feel like I’m some kind of liability when all I want to do is see my kid for the first time.
I’ve checked the phone sitting on my thigh approximately four hundred times in the last ten minutes. Sadie came over to watch Ellie, accompanied by Ian, who clapped me on the shoulder on my way out the door with “Good luck, bro. Don’t screw it up.”
Not exactly reassuring.
I drum my fingers on the steering wheel and try not to think about all the ways I could mess this up. What if I say something stupid during the ultrasound? Or what if I don’t say enough? What if the baby looks weird on the screen and I make a face and Piper thinks I’m not excited? What if—
My phone buzzes.
Piper: Back door. Now.
I’m out of the SUV before I can overthink things anymore. I jog across the parking lot toward the rear of the building, and the door opens just as I reach it. A nurse who looks about twelve years old ushers me inside with a finger pressed to her lips.
“This way,” she whispers, like we’re in a spy movie.
I follow her down a hallway that smells like antiseptic, past exam rooms with closed doors. The whole thing reminds me of being snuck through the back entrance of clubs in Vegas when I was still riding high on college football fame.
Except this is nothing like that.
This is about Piper and our baby, and that thought makes my chest squeeze in a way that’s sharp and soft all at once.
The nurse stops at a door, knocks twice, then pushes it open. “Your plus-one is here,” she says cheerfully before disappearing.
I step into the dim room, and it takes my eyes a second to adjust before I see her.
Piper’s lying on the exam table, thin paper crinkling under her as she shifts. The overhead lights are off, but there’s a soft glow from the monitor beside her.
“Hey,” I say, incapable of anything more eloquent.
“Hey.” She sounds as anxious as I feel. “Sorry about the cloak-and-dagger routine.”
“Are you kidding? I feel like James Bond.” I take in the rest of the room as I move closer.
There’s a chair up against the wall, a rolling stool, a sink, and what I assume is the ultrasound machine with its wand thing sitting in some kind of holster.
“Although Bond probably doesn’t pit out from nerves. ”
She grins, and some of the tension in her shoulders eases. “You’re nervous?”
“Terrified.” I scoot the chair closer to her head and take a seat. “My nose on a newborn? That should come with a warning label.”
“Your nose is fine.”
“It’s been broken three times.”
“Still fine.” She reaches out and takes my hand, her fingers cold against mine. “Thank you for being here.”
“Where else would I be?”
Before she can answer, the door opens again, and a woman in navy scrubs walks in. She’s in her mid-forties, with a friendly smile and the efficient energy of someone who’s done this a thousand times.
“Hi, Piper. I’m Suzie, your ultrasound tech.” She extends her hand to me. “And you must be Dad.”
Dad.
I’m glad I’m sitting down, because the word steals my breath. I’m going to be a dad. Not a guardian or a temporary fill-in, but an actual father to a tiny human who’s half me and half Piper and fully themselves.
“Felix,” I manage, giving a little wave. “Felix Barlowe.”
“Nice to meet you, Felix.” If she recognizes my name, she doesn’t show it. She turns to wash her hands at the sink, then rolls the stool over to the ultrasound machine. “Let’s take a look at this baby, Mom and Dad.” She offers Piper a smile. “This is going to be a little cold.”
She squirts gel onto Piper’s stomach, which only shows signs of a tiny swell, and Piper gasps then gives a nervous laugh. “More like Arctic tundra freezing.”
“Sorry.” Suzie doesn’t sound sorry at all as she picks up the wand. “You’ll warm up in a second.”
I’m still holding Piper’s hand, but I can’t take my eyes off the monitor. It’s just gray static as Suzie moves the wand across Piper’s belly, also focusing on the screen.
“Here we go,” she murmurs.
Then I see it.
It’s a shadowy blob until Suzie angles the probe and the image snaps into a recognizable shape.
“Say hi to your baby,” she murmurs.
Our baby.
Holy hell.
Piper leans in. “Is that the head?”
“Exactly.” Suzie traces along the rounded shape. “That bright line right there is the spine.” She taps a few keys. “Baby’s measuring right on track for fourteen weeks.”
More tapping, and numbers that don’t mean a thing to me pop up on the monitor. “The crown-rump length is good.”
“Crown-rump,” I repeat. “Sounds like something I’d order at a fancy steakhouse.”
Suzie laughs. “Well, this one’s much cuter.”
I’m not sure about that because, honestly, I can’t discern much. Then Suzie adjusts the wand, and the baby’s profile appears. There’s a tiny nose, a rounded forehead, and hands with actual fingers near their face. I see a real person. Our person.
Piper’s breath catches. “Can we hear the heartbeat?” she asks.
“Of course.” Suzie clicks a button to switch modes but frowns when there’s just static.
My heart feels like it stops as Piper squeezes my fingers.
Then we hear it.
Whoosh-whoosh. Whoosh-whoosh. Whoosh-whoosh.
A strong and steady heartbeat.
Suzie smiles. “There we go. Sometimes they wiggle out of the way for a second. Heart rate is perfect at one-fifty-eight.”
Piper’s tears start immediately.
“Our baby’s heartbeat,” she whispers and glances up at me. The emotion in her wide eyes steals my breath. Or maybe that’s my own reaction to this miraculous moment.
“Our baby,” I murmur. I haven’t cried since my parents sat us down about the divorce, but that steady sound and Piper’s reaction cracks me open, clean down the middle.
The baby suddenly shifts on the screen, one tiny kick followed by another.
“Is it moving?” I ask.
“A he or she and yes,” Suzie answers with a laugh, then adjusts the angle of the wand again. “The baby is active. You won’t feel it for a few more weeks, Piper, but the baby’s having their own dance party in there.”
I could watch this all damn day. “The dance skills come from me,” I tell Piper, automatically lifting her hand to my lips and pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “Can we get a picture? Or a dozen? I’m happy to pay for extra.”
Suzie snorts. “Lucky for you, pictures are included in the prenatal package. It’s a little early, but do you want me to take a guess on the sex?”
“Do you want to know?” Piper asks me, and it feels as though the question in her eyes is about more than just finding out if we’re having a boy or a girl. It’s about all the other things we haven’t discussed. Like what comes next. And whether we’re doing this together or separately.
I squeeze her hand. “Your choice.”
“I asked you,” she says softly.
“I’m all good either way.” As soon as I say the words, I know they’re true. “As long as the baby’s healthy, that’s all that matters.”
Piper’s smile trembles a little on either side. “Let’s be surprised.”
“Love it.” Suzie finishes up, wiping the gel off Piper’s stomach and handing us four grainy images of our baby from different angles. “Congratulations, you two. Everything looks great.”
“Thank you,” Piper says, her voice thick with emotion.
Suzie pats her shoulder. “You’re doing wonderful, Mom. We’ll see you at your next appointment.”
She leaves, and I help Piper sit up. She adjusts the hem of her shirt, holding the photos gingerly, like they’re made of glass. Her expression is dazed, and I’m pretty sure the same look is mirrored on my own face.
“That was...” I trail off, not sure how to finish.
“Yeah,” she agrees.
We’re silent as we leave through the back door, because what is there to say? We heard our baby’s heartbeat. Nothing else matters at the moment.
The drive back to her house is just as quiet. Not in an uncomfortable way. We’re both processing what we just experienced. I park in her driveway, and we sit here for a minute, neither of us making a move to get out.
“That was…um…real,” Piper says finally.
“Very real.”
She laughs, then looks down at the strip of ultrasound photos in her hands, running her thumb over the grainy images. “I keep thinking about my mom, and she won’t get to meet…” Her voice cracks.
I reach over and cover her hand with mine. “Hey, Hart?” She looks up at me, tears gathering in her eyes. “Our kid is going to know they’re wanted and loved,” I say. “You’re going to make your mom proud.”
A tear spills over, and she swipes at it with her free hand. “You can’t say shit like that, Felix.”
“Why not?”
“Because it makes me want—” She stops herself, shaking her head. “Never mind.”
But I can guess what she was going to say, and I feel it too. I want to give in to this pull between us that has nothing to do with the baby and everything to do with moments like these. Moments when we see each other so clearly.
“Come on,” she says, opening her door. “Let’s go show Sadie and Ian before I completely lose it.”
I follow her toward the house, my eyes on her trembling fingers holding the ultrasound photos, and realize something with sudden clarity.
I don’t just want to be this baby’s father.
I want to be the person Piper turns to full stop.