Chapter 22
“I’m just saying, a minimalist nursery is fine for Pinterest, but my nephew needs flavor,” Steph said, gesturing wildly with a half-eaten croissant.
“Flavor?” I laughed. “Steph, his father is Kasen. The room is probably gonna be eighty percent servers and gaming monitors. He’ll be coding before he crawls.”
“Over my dead body,” Steph scoffed. “He’s gonna have a custom-painted mural and at least three pairs of designer sneakers he can’t even walk in. We need to start planning this baby shower now, Sev. February is almost over. Before you know it, August will be here, and so will my nephew.”
I leaned back, resting my hand on my stomach.
I had six months to pack up my life, merge it with a man who organized his closet by thread count, and figure out how to be a mother of two.
“We talked about moving in last night,” I admitted.
Steph’s eyes damn near popped out of her head. “For real? Like, U-Haul and joint bank accounts for real?”
“Like, my lease is up in a few months and Serenity already thinks his guest room is hers for real.” I smiled, thinking about the look on Kasen’s face when he asked. “He wants us there. He’s already making space in the drawers.”
“God, I love this for you,” Steph sighed, her expression softening. “You deserve a man who makes space.”
My phone buzzed on the table, vibrating against the wood. I looked down, hoping it was Kasen.
It wasn’t.
TROY:
You home?
Need to talk about Serenity’s soccer sign ups.
I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt.
“Let me guess,” Steph muttered. “The ghost of Christmas Past?”
“The common denominator,” I corrected, sliding my phone across the table so I wouldn’t have to look at his name. “He’s pressed because Kasen posted us. Now he wants to talk about soccer sign-ups like he didn’t miss the last three games.”
“Ignore him,” Steph said. “Focus on the future. Speaking of, what time is the anatomy scan? I know you said the blood test said boy, but I need to see the little man on the big screen.”
I checked the time. 2:40 PM.
“It’s at three,” I said, picking up my phone and dialing Kasen’s number.
He picked up on the first ring. “Hey.”
“Hey, Batman,” I said, smiling at the ceiling. “You busy?”
“Always. Why?”
“Just checking in. You still coming to the appointment at three? I know that meeting with the Chicago firm was supposed to run long.”
I walked toward the front of the studio, the large windows letting in the afternoon sun. I reached the front desk, looking out at the parking lot while I waited for his answer.
“I’m a man of my word, Sev,” Kasen’s voice was deep and steady through the line. “I wouldn’t miss seeing him.”
“Good,” I murmured. “Because Serenity has been asking all day if she can see the baby’s heartbeat again.”
“Tell her to look up,” Kasen said.
I frowned, stopping in my tracks. “What?”
“Look up, Sevyn.”
I lifted my head. Through the glass doors of Studio 7, I saw his black truck idling at the curb and there he was leaning against the hood in a fitted black polo and slacks, phone to his ear, looking every bit like the man who had flipped my entire world upside down.
A slow, breathless laugh escaped me.
“You’re early,” I said into the phone, my heart doing that stupid fluttering thing it only did for him.
“Punctuality is a virtue,” he replied, a smirk audible in his voice.
I hung up, grabbed my bag, and looked at Steph, who was already smirking at me from the doorway.
“Go,” she waved me off. “Go see your man and my nephew. I’ll lock up.”
I didn’t need to be told twice. I headed for the door, my necklace catching the light as I moved.
I pushed through the glass doors, the heat of the afternoon hitting me as I walked across the pavement toward him. He wasn’t looking at his phone anymore; he was just watching me, his expression softening in that way that still made my knees feel like they were made of water.
When I reached him, I didn’t say a word. I just reached up, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him down to me.
Kasen didn’t hesitate. His hands settled firmly on my waist, pulling me against him, and he leaned down, meeting me halfway. The kiss was slow, warm and deep and tasting like a sugar.
He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against mine, his locs shielding us from the rest of the parking lot. “Happy day-after-your-birthday,” he murmured.
I laughed, my fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. “You’re doing too much, Reed.”
“Never enough,” he corrected.
I stepped back, grabbing his hand and tugging him toward the passenger side. “Come on. Let’s go see our boy.”
The ultrasound room was dim and quiet, the only sound being the rhythmic hum of the machine and the soft clicking of the technician’s keyboard.
I was laid back on the table, my shirt tucked up and that cold, clear gel smeared across my stomach. Kasen sat in the chair beside me, his chair pulled up so close our knees were locked together. He was holding my hand, his grip tight.
“Okay,” the tech said, moving the wand across my skin. “Let’s see what he’s up to today.”
The screen flickered, grainy grey and white shapes shifting until suddenly, everything snapped into focus.
There he was.
A profile view. A tiny, perfect nose. The curve of a forehead that looked exactly like the one currently leaning toward the monitor. I felt my breath catch in my throat. Every time I saw him, it felt like the first time.
“There’s the head,” the tech pointed out. “Heart looks great. Strong beat.”
Kasen’s grip on my hand tightened. I looked over at him. The blue light from the monitor reflected in his glasses, and for the first time since I’d known him, he looked completely defenseless. His mouth was slightly parted, his eyes wide with a kind of awe that made my heart ache.
“You see that?” the tech asked, moving the wand lower. “Blood test was right. Definitely a boy.”
On the screen, a tiny hand moved, fingers curling and uncurling like he was reaching for something.
“Hey, little man,” Kasen whispered, his voice thick.
I felt a tear slip out of the corner of my eye, sliding back into my hair. I reached up with my free hand to wipe it away, but Kasen was already there. He didn’t look back at the screen. Instead, he turned his head, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that felt like a physical weight.
“Sevyn,” he said quietly.
“Yes?”
He searched my eyes, his thumb brushing the stray tear from my cheek.
“I love you,” he said.
My heart didn’t just flutter; it hammered. I’d been waiting for those words, had felt them humming between us for weeks, but hearing them here, while our son moved on a screen between us was almost too much to carry.
“Batman,” I choked out, a watery laugh bubbling up. “You really tryna make me cry in front of this lady?”
He didn’t smile. He kept looking at me, his hand moving from my face to rest over the gel on my stomach, right over where our boy was.
“I mean it,” he said. “I love you. All of you. The mess, the studio, the girl who called me a nerd through a security camera... I love it all.”
I squeezed his hand back, my vision blurring completely.
“I love you too, Kasen,” I whispered. “So much.”
He leaned over the side of the table, kissing me softly while the tech continued to take measurements of our baby.
The tech finished the measurements, wiping the gel off my stomach as she handed me a stack of glossy sonogram prints.
“Everything looks perfect, mama,” she said with a smile. “He’s growing exactly the way he should. Heartbeat is strong, and he’s very active.”
Kasen took the photos from her like they were ancient scrolls, his eyes scanning every pixel of our son’s face. I watched him, still vibrating from that I love you.
We walked out into the hallway, his arm wrapped tight around my shoulders. “You okay?” he asked, checking my face.
“I’m perfect,” I said, leaning into him. I glanced at my watch. “We need to go pick up Serenity and Kori from Troy’s. They’ve been begging all week to paint my belly, and I promised them we’d do it tonight after the appointment.”
Kasen nodded, his expression shifting back into that protective, steady mask. “Okay. Let’s go.”
The drive to Troy’s was quieter than usual. The sun was starting to dip, casting long, golden shadows across the street as we pulled up to the curb. I saw Troy standing in the driveway, leaning against his SUV. He was already mugging, his jaw set and his arms crossed tight over his chest.
He’d clearly been waiting for us.
I climbed out of the truck, Kasen right behind me. As we walked toward the house, Troy’s eyes stayed locked on Kasen, full of that same petty, territorial energy he’d been carrying for months but then, as I got closer, his gaze dropped.
I was wearing a fitted maternity top today—nothing to hide under anymore. The curve of my belly was undeniable, a sharp contrast to the flat stomach he’d known for years.
Troy’s expression flickered. The anger was still there, but a flash of disbelief, maybe even a little bit of grief—passed over his face before he masked it with a sneer.
“Damn,” Troy said, his voice dripping with bitterness. “You really did let this nerd ass nigga knock you up.”
I just stopped a few feet away from him and raised a brow. “I thought we established that last time, Troy. You late on the news cycle.”
Kasen stepped up beside me, not saying a word, but his presence was a wall. He didn’t need to bark; his size and the quiet intensity in his eyes did all the talking for him.
Troy huffed, looking back at my stomach like he was trying to make sense of a math problem he couldn’t solve. “I just don’t get it. Him? For real?”
I felt a flash of irritation, but then I remembered the photos in my purse. I remembered the I love you in the dim ultrasound room. I remembered the man standing next to me who knew my favorite coffee order and my daughter’s favorite princess and the exact spot on my back that needed rubbing.
I looked at Troy and realized I didn’t have the energy to argue anymore.
“You know what?” I said, my voice gone quiet and cool. “It doesn’t even matter what you get or don’t get. It’s not your life, Troy. It’s mine.”
I adjusted my bag on my shoulder, looking past him toward the front door.
“Go get Serenity and Kori, please. They have a masterpiece to paint, and we’re on a schedule.”
Troy stared at me for another beat, his nostrils flaring. He looked like he wanted to say something else—something mean, something to bridge the gap he’d created but he ultimately just shook his head and turned toward the house.
“Whatever,” he muttered, opening the front door. “Serenity! Kori! Your ride here.”
A second later, the sound of thundering footsteps hit the floorboards, and two little girls came bursting out of the house, their faces lighting up when they saw us.
“MOMMY!” Serenity screamed.
“UNCLE KASE!” Kori yelled right after.
The heaviness in the air evaporated the second they reached us. As they started rambling about the colors they’d picked out for my “baby bump mural,” I felt Kasen’s hand find the small of my back.
Troy was standing in the doorway, watching his daughters transition seamlessly into the life we were building without him.