Chapter 20 Kick #2
Snapper’s teasing expression softened. “She knows you do. There’s no doubt.
” He gazed off in the distance. “I get it. You wait for the right moment. Try to make a plan. Then the woman you love shows up Christmas morning at dawn, and you sink to your knees because you know that is not just the right moment. It’s the only moment.
” He held my gaze. “All you need to be is sure. Are you?”
“I’ve never been more certain of anything.”
“Then, stop overthinking it. It doesn’t have to be perfect. She just needs to hear how you feel, and she needs to believe it. That’s all.”
We spent the afternoon working on the winery building, cleaning the equipment, replacing rusted fittings, and assessing what could be salvaged and what needed to go.
My brothers gave me grief about everything from my technique with a wrench to the color Isabel had chosen for the tasting room walls, and by the time the sun started sinking toward the hills, my muscles ached and my mind was quiet.
This was what I needed. Physical work. My brothers’ company. The reminder that I wasn’t building this life alone.
Isabel texted as they were loading up to leave. Heading home. See you in an hour.
Home. She called it home now. It meant more than she probably knew.
I showered and changed, then sat on the edge of the bed and took out the ring one more time. The diamond caught the fading light, and I turned it between my fingers.
Tonight, I thought. And then pushed the thought away.
We had the anatomy scan in the morning. The appointment where we’d finally see our baby in detail and confirm that everything was developing the way it should. That felt like the moment to focus on first.
The ring could wait one more day.
Isabel lay on the examination table in the doctor’s office, wearing a gown that opened in the front while I held her hand and tried to look calmer than I felt.
Isabel’s fingers tightened on mine. She was nervous too, I realized. Hiding it better than I was, but nervous.
“You know the drill, this might be a little cold,” the doctor warned before squeezing gel onto Isabel’s skin.
She flinched, then laughed. “It feels like you kept it in the freezer.”
The doctor laughed too, then moved the wand across her stomach. The screen flickered to life and shapes emerged from the static—curves and shadows that slowly morphed into something recognizable.
A head. A spine. Tiny hands with fingers I could count. Feet that kicked and flexed as we watched.
“There’s your baby,” she said, adjusting the angle. “Let me just take some measurements.”
I stared at the screen, unable to look away.
The last ultrasound had shown a blob, barely human-shaped, a grainy image that required imagination to interpret.
This was different. This was a person. A tiny, perfect person with a nose and lips and a heartbeat I could see pulsing on the monitor.
She was moving, stretching, living inside the woman I loved.
The doctor worked in silence for several minutes, clicking, measuring, and typing notes I couldn’t read. Each pause made my heart rate spike, but her expression remained calm, professional, and reassuring.
“Everything looks great,” she finally said. “Growth is right on track. Strong heartbeat. Good movement. Brain development is normal. The heart has four chambers, all functioning properly. Spine is intact. Kidneys, stomach, bladder—all present and accounted for.”
The relief that washed through me was physical, a loosening of tension I hadn’t realized I carried. Isabel let out a breath that sounded like she’d been holding it since we walked in.
“Do you want to know the sex?”
We’d discussed this. We’d said we wanted to know, wanted to be prepared, wanted to stop assuming we were having a girl and be sure. Maybe even start talking about names. But now that the moment was here, I felt my heart slam against my ribs.
Isabel looked at me. I nodded.
“Yes,” she said. “We want to know.”
The wand moved, and we studied the screen.
“It’s a girl.”
A chill went through me. I’d known—we’d both known—in that instinctive way that defied logic, but hearing it confirmed made it real.
Our daughter. Our little girl. The baby who would sleep in that yellow nursery, who would grow up running through the vineyard rows, who would inherit Isabel’s dark eyes and—God willing—her strength.
My vision blurred. I blinked hard, but the tears came anyway.
“Rascon?” Isabel said softly.
I brought her hand to my lips and pressed a kiss against her knuckles. “I’m fine,” I managed. “I’m better than fine.”
In the car afterward, we sat in the parking lot without starting the engine. Isabel stared through the windshield, one hand resting on her belly.
“We’re having a girl,” she said.
“We knew.”
She turned to look at me. “We did.” Her smile was so broad that the sight of it cracked something open in my chest. I’d never imagined the happiness I felt existed.
I started the car and drove out of the parking lot. The ring was waiting at home, hidden in a drawer, patient as it had been for weeks.
But I was done waiting.