Chapter 19
nineteen
. . .
Natalie
The November air has the nerve to actually feel like November.
Cool, overcast, the kind of day LA breaks out maybe twice a year just to remind us it can do weather if it wants to.
I’m in leggings and an oversized sweater that’s rapidly becoming not-so-oversized.
There’s a curve now that’s small, like a little quiet announcement.
When I spot Jake waiting by the entrance, I stop walking for half a second.
Just long enough to feel that weird shift in my chest again.
Something really did change last night. I didn’t mean for it to.
Didn’t intend to let it. But there it is, humming under my skin like a secret I haven’t decided to keep or destroy.
I wonder if he felt it too.
He turns at just the right moment, like he senses me, and when that smile hits his face, the breath catches in my throat.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey.”
His eyes do a quick sweep over me, reading me in that way he’s gotten good at. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.” I can feel heat flush across my face. He steps closer, and I realize my whole body is vibrating with this restless energy I can’t seem to shake.
Jake must see it, because he reaches out, his hand finding mine. His fingers thread through mine slowly, deliberately, and the warmth of his palm against mine steadies something inside me I didn’t know was wobbling.
“Is this okay?” he asks quietly.
I look down at our hands, then back up at him. There’s no pressure in his expression. No expectation. Just that steady presence that’s been showing up for weeks now, asking for nothing but offering everything.
I nod, giving him a small smile. “Yeah. It’s okay.”
His thumb brushes over my knuckles, just once, and the gesture is so gentle it creates a cluster of flutters in my stomach. “We’re checking on our perfectly healthy baby today. And whatever we find out about the sex, it’s gonna be perfect too.”
“You sound very confident.”
“I’m faking it.” His mouth quirks.
Despite everything, I laugh. And just like that, the tension in my shoulders eases. Just having him here settles something in me.
“You ready?” he asks.
“I am now.” And it’s true.
We walk through check-in, the waiting room, the normal pre-appointment choreography. Fifteen minutes later, I’m lying back in the dim exam room, cold gel on my stomach, Jake beside me.
“So today’s the anatomy scan,” the tech chirps. “We’ll check all the organs, measurements, overall growth. And if you want to know the sex, we can absolutely look for that too.”
“We want to know,” I say before she even finishes the sentence.
Jake nods. “Definitely.”
The wand hits my stomach. I flinch. Jake reaches for my hand without looking away from the screen. His fingers slide around mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
And suddenly we see the baby.
The tech provides a running commentary as she moves the wand, but I’m barely hearing the words. The baby is stretching, curling, flexing tiny limbs that don’t feel so tiny anymore.
“Everything looks great,” she says. “Strong heartbeat, good organ development, measuring perfectly.”
Jake releases a low exhale, like all the air in his lungs has been waiting for this update. His jaw clenches with emotion but also with something steadier. Relief. Awe.
Then the tech beams at us. “Ready to find out what you’re having?”
Jake looks at me. I look at him. Something sparks between us, warm and alive and terrifying.
“Yes,” we say together.
The tech moves the wand, angling for cooperation. The seconds stretch. My heart tries to escape through my throat.
“There it is,” she announces. “Congratulations. You’re having a girl.”
A girl.
My lungs forget how to function. I stare at the screen, then at Jake.
His eyes lock with mine, and the smile that spreads across his face is pure, unfiltered joy.
The kind that pushes color into his cheeks and makes the corners of his eyes crinkle.
He looks like someone just handed him the entire world on a silver platter.
“A girl,” he says again, like he wants to make absolutely sure he heard the tech right. His voice drops a little, steady but almost reverent, eyes still locked on me. “We’re having a daughter.”
The words land somewhere in the center of my chest and hit a switch I didn’t know existed.
Something warm rises up and I have to shift, sitting up a little so I don’t accidentally leak emotions all over the ultrasound machine.
He moves to help me up and every touch, every gesture sends electricity through me.
We clean up and the tech hands us the printouts.
Jake thanks her with a voice that sounds like he’s still half breathless.
The walk out of the building feels unreal and by the time we reach the parking lot, my heart still hasn’t settled.
I turn to him and say the first thing my brain can manage. “We’re having a daughter.”
He doesn’t answer. He just steps closer, lifts a hand to my face, and kisses me. A slow, deliberate kiss that I feel deep in my bones. His soft lips covering mine, his tongue gently sweeping inside to find mine. It’s tender and sweet and full of something that makes my heart skip.
When he pulls back, his eyes roam my face. “Sorry. I got caught up in the moment.”
“It’s okay,” I say, and I mean it.
He shoves his hands into his pockets like he needs to do something with the excess energy buzzing off him. “You hungry?”
“Starving.”
His face lights up again. “I’ll grab food. We can celebrate at your place.”
There’s something so normal and sweet about the way he says that word—celebrate—that warmth slides through me before I can stop it. I nod. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
Jake brushes a loose strand of hair behind my ear, gives me a smile that knocks the wind out of me again, and says, “Text me your order. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
A half hour later we’re on the floor, surrounded by Chinese takeout, my laptop open to a baby-name website as we scroll through endless suggestions.
“What about Emma?” Jake suggests, scrolling through the list like a man on a mission.
“Too popular,” I say. “Every preschool has at least three.”
“Okay…. Olivia?”
“Same issue.”
“You’re very picky.”
“It’s our daughter’s name. It needs to have some personality. Something that makes her sound like she might grow up to win an Oscar or overthrow a government.”
Jake laughs, leaning back on one hand. “Our daughter. I keep saying it in my head.”
“Me too.”
I reach for a spring roll. “What about Margot?”
“I like Margot. Strong, elegant.”
“Or Sloane?”
He adds both to his notes app. “I’m starting a list.”
His dedication to even this somehow makes my heart swoon.
Jake glances at the clock. “I should probably head out.”
He says the words, but his body doesn’t move. And I’m suddenly, painfully aware of how long it’s been since I’ve wanted someone to stay.
“Yeah,” I say. Except my voice betrays how much I don’t want him to.
He hears it. I know he does.
“Or…” I hear myself say, heart thundering in my chest, “you could stay.”
His brows lift slightly. Not shocked. Not smug. Just hopeful.
“Stay?” he echoes.
I swallow hard. “If you want to.”
He studies me for a long breath. Like he’s making sure I mean it. Like he’s trying not to get ahead of himself even though he already is.
“You sure?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
The smile he gives me isn’t triumphant. It’s not even confident. It’s relieved. Almost tender.
“Okay,” he says, voice quiet but certain. “I’ll stay.”