Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
WILLOW
T he smell of coffee fills the bakery’s kitchen as I pour myself another cup, my hands trembling slightly. Frankie sits at my feet, wagging his tail and looking up at me like he knows something’s up.
And he’s right.
I glance at the clock. June should be here any minute. I texted her last night asking her to come by before the bakery opens, and now, as the minutes tick by, my nerves start to spike.
What if I’m wrong? Or worse... what if I’m right?
The bell over the front door chimes, and June’s voice carries through the shop. “Willow? You here?”
“In the back!” I call out, setting my coffee down and wiping my hands on my apron.
She appears a moment later, her brows furrowed as she takes one look at me. “Okay, you sounded weird last night, and now you look weird. What’s going on?”
I gesture for her to sit at the small table in the corner, and she does, her eyes narrowing as she studies me. “Spill,” she demands, crossing her arms.
I sit down across from her, my heart pounding. “I think I’m pregnant,” I blurt out, the words tumbling out before I can stop them.
June’s eyes widen, and for a second, she just stares at me. “Wait... seriously?”
I nod, biting my lip. “I’ve been feeling... off. Tired, nauseous, just not myself. And then I realized... I’m late.”
Her mouth falls open. “How late?”
“Two weeks,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.
June leans back in her chair, her brows shooting up. “Well, damn, Willow. Have you taken a test?”
I shake my head. “Not yet. I bought a couple yesterday, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”
“Okay, first of all,” she says, sitting up and pointing at me, “we’re taking those tests right now. Second of all... how do you feel about this?”
I let out a shaky breath, my hands fidgeting in my lap. “I don’t know. I mean, I love Brock, but... we’re still so new, June. This wasn’t exactly in the plan.”
June tilts her head, her expression softening. “But?”
“But... it feels right,” I whisper, my throat tightening. “Like maybe this was meant to be.”
Her face breaks into a smile, and she reaches across the table to grab my hands. “Okay, let’s find out for sure.”
The next ten minutes feel like an eternity. June waits outside the bathroom while I take the tests—three of them, just to be sure.
When I step out, holding the sticks in my shaking hands, she looks up at me expectantly. “Well?”
I can’t even speak. I just hand them to her, and she glances down at the results.
“Holy crap,” she breathes, her eyes darting between the tests and my face. “Willow... they’re all positive.”
I sink onto the chair beside her, my chest tight with a mix of fear and excitement. “I’m really pregnant.”
“You’re really pregnant,” she says, her voice soft but full of awe.
Tears well up in my eyes, and I let out a shaky laugh. “What am I going to do?”
“You’re going to tell Brock,” she says firmly. “And you’re going to realize that this baby is already so loved. You’ve got this, Willow.”
I nod slowly, my hand resting on my stomach. It’s terrifying, and it’s overwhelming, but deep down, I know she’s right.
This wasn’t part of the plan, but maybe it’s exactly what was meant to happen.
The next day, after the bakery closes, I set my plan in motion. If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s bake—and if I’m going to tell Brock he’s going to be a dad, I’m doing it my way.
Frankie snoozes in his little bed near the counter as I work, the kitchen warm and filled with the scent of sugar and vanilla. I’ve baked thousands of cookies in my life, but none have carried as much weight as these.
I pipe the final touches onto the sugar cookies, my hands steady despite the butterflies in my stomach. A little heart here, a swirl there. Perfect.
Each cookie is decorated with a message: We’re having a baby , Daddy-to-be , and my favorite, Your little peanut is baking.
Once the cookies are done, I arrange them in a simple white box, tying it with a soft blue ribbon. My stomach flips as I take a step back and stare at it. This is it.
B y the time I pull into Brock’s driveway, the nerves are in full swing. I take a deep breath, clutching the box tightly as I climb out of the car and head toward his workshop.
The sound of sanding reaches my ears before I even open the door, and when I step inside, I find him at his workbench, his back to me. He’s focused, his muscles flexing under his t-shirt as he smooths the edge of a wooden chair.
“Hey,” I call out softly, and he turns immediately, his face lighting up when he sees me.
“Hey, baby,” he says, setting the sander down and wiping his hands on a rag. “What brings you here?”
I hold up the box, my heart thundering. “I made you something.”
His brow quirks as he steps closer, his curiosity piqued. “For me? What’s the occasion?”
“Just... open it,” I say, handing it to him.
He unties the ribbon carefully, his strong hands steady as he lifts the lid. When he sees the cookies, his eyes widen, and I watch as he takes in each one, his expression shifting from confusion to realization.
He picks up the one that says We’re having a baby and stares at it, then looks up at me, his mouth slightly open. “Willow... are you—”
I nod, tears brimming in my eyes. “I’m pregnant.”
For a second, he doesn’t say anything, just looks at me like he’s trying to process what he just heard. Then, in one quick motion, he sets the box down and pulls me into his arms, lifting me off the ground as he kisses me.
“You’re serious?” he asks, his voice thick with emotion as he sets me back down, his hands cupping my face.
I nod again, laughing through my tears. “I took three tests. All positive. You’re going to be a dad.”
His eyes shine, and a wide smile spreads across his face. “Holy shit,” he breathes, pulling me into another hug. “We’re having a baby.”
“We are,” I whisper, resting my head against his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat.
He leans back, looking down at me with so much love it makes my knees weak. “You’re amazing, you know that?”
I laugh, wiping my eyes. “I don’t feel very amazing. I’ve been a nervous wreck all day.”
“Well, stop being nervous,” he says, kissing my forehead. “This is the best news I’ve ever gotten.”
I smile, my hands resting on his chest. “You’re really happy?”
“Happy?” he says, shaking his head. “Willow, you’ve already made me the happiest man alive. This... this just makes it even better.”
My chest feels full to bursting as he leans down and kisses me again, his hands resting on my waist.
“You and me,” he says softly, his forehead resting against mine. “And now this little one. I don’t need anything else.”
Frankie barks from the corner, making us both laugh, and Brock glances down at him. “Alright, Frankie,” he says with a smile. “You’re going to have to share her now.”
I laugh, swatting at him lightly. “He’s fine with sharing, as long as he still gets his cookies.”
Brock looks back at the box, his smile widening. “Speaking of cookies, I’m saving these. Not a single one is getting eaten.”
“Not even your little peanut is baking ?” I tease, raising an eyebrow.
“Especially not that one,” he says, pulling me close again. “I’m framing it.”
I laugh, my heart feeling lighter than it has in days. This is it—this is the life I’ve always wanted. And now, with Brock by my side and a baby on the way, it’s only just beginning.
T he months that follow are a whirlwind of changes, love, and new beginnings. Brock and I decided to move into my house—it’s bigger, cozier, and already felt like home. With a little elbow grease and a lot of help from Brock, we turned it into the perfect place to start our family.
He built shelves for the nursery, patched the walls from the break-in, and even made Frankie a little bed in the corner of our bedroom, though Frankie clearly prefers sleeping between us.
And then, just a few weeks ago, in the middle of it all, Brock proposed.
It wasn’t elaborate or over-the-top—just him and me at the bakery, after closing. He’d carved “Marry me, Willow” into a wooden plaque and set it on the counter with a tiny bouquet of sunflowers beside it.
I cried, of course. Then I said yes before he could even finish asking.
Our wedding was exactly what I wanted—small, simple, and filled with love. We held it in the backyard under the oak tree, with a handful of our closest friends and family. June stood beside me as my maid of honor, and Ethan, Brock’s best friend, was his best man.
When I walked down the aisle in a simple white dress, the look on Brock’s face made every doubt I’d ever had about love disappear.
The vows were short and sweet, just like the ceremony. But as we exchanged rings, Brock leaned in and whispered, “Forever, baby,” and it felt like a promise I could hold onto for the rest of my life.
Now, here we are—married, happy, and counting down the weeks until we meet our little one.
The nursery is nearly done, painted in soft yellows and greens, with hand-carved wooden animals Brock made lining the shelves. Every time I step inside, I feel this flutter of excitement and nerves, like I can’t believe this is actually happening.
“Baby, you okay?” Brock’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts.
I turn to see him standing in the doorway of the nursery, a paintbrush in hand and a smudge of green paint on his forearm.
“Just thinking,” I say, smiling as I rub my belly, which has grown rounder by the day.
He sets the brush down and crosses the room, wrapping his arms around me from behind. His hands rest on my stomach, and I feel the baby kick, a tiny nudge that makes my heart swell.
“Was that—”
“Yep,” I say, laughing as he presses his hands a little firmer against my belly.
“She’s strong,” he says, his voice filled with wonder.
“She?” I tease, turning to look at him over my shoulder. “We don’t know that yet.”
He smiles, kissing my cheek. “Just a feeling. But whoever they are, they’re already the luckiest kid in the world. They’ve got you for a mom.”
I laugh, leaning into him. “And you for a dad. That’s pretty lucky too.”
He presses a kiss to my temple, his voice soft. “You know, I never imagined my life turning out like this. But now that we’re here... I can’t imagine it any other way.”
“Me neither,” I whisper, my hand covering his on my stomach.
The future feels bright, filled with love and possibilities. And as I stand here in the nursery with Brock’s arms around me, I know we’re ready for whatever comes next.