Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
“What? That’s the baby’s heartbeat?” Peyton cries out and looks at me. I’m sure my smile is as wide as it can get right now. “Do you hear this?”
“I do.” I crouch so I can be next to her. “This is the most amazing sound I’ve ever heard.” It’s up there with Peyton screaming my name while we’re having sex, but I can’t say that in here.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, fills the room.
Tears fill our eyes as we listen to the sound of our child’s heartbeat. I choke back a sob as I take it all in and wipe at Peyton’s streaming tears. We did this (with the help of modern-day science) but we still created a life together.
I nuzzle Peyton’s nose. “Thank you.”
“Thank you,” she says right back as she kisses me quickly. “That’s our baby.”
“Yeah, it is.”
I’ve never been more thankful Dr. Chan told me to record this because now I’ll have it forever.
Dr. Chan makes some notes on the computer and then takes the wand from Peyton’s stomach, and then wipes the gel off. “Baby’s heartbeat is strong, Peyton. Everything looks great. I’m going to send my notes to Dr. Ringman.”
“Thank you.”
“Anytime you need to see me, just call. I’ll make room for you.” She gives Peyton a hug and when she passes by me, I reach out and give her one. I don’t even care if it’s awkward.
As soon as the door shuts and it’s only Peyton and me, I go to her and cup her face. “We heard our baby.”
“I know,” she said with tears in her eyes. “And he or she is strong.”
“Of course, little bean is strong,” I tell her. “With you as a mom, they’re going to be the strongest ever. Bean is in there, learning from you. Thriving because of you. Honestly, I expect our son or daughter to be an overachiever.”
Peyton laughs. “I love you.”
“Love you more, babe. Come on, we have phone calls to make!”
23
PEYTON
Ilove my sister and tell her as such when I put on my beautiful A-line dress for her wedding. She picked it out, to match her gown, hiding our growing bumps—well mostly mine—from any paparazzi lurking in the shadows. Elle doesn’t care who knows she’s pregnant, but I do. It’s something Noah and I plan to tell the world when we’re ready. We haven’t even officially introduced Stevie Nicks yet, but he’s posted her on his social media pages, sans name of course. Noah plans to make her famous, now that he’s seen how much dog influencers can make. I have a feeling he’s using her as his retirement plan.
Our dad comes around the corner, dressed in a tuxedo, and my heart stops. For a moment, I stare at the man who didn’t hesitate to step up and raise Elle and I as his own. It’s easy to see why my mom loves him so much. When Harrison James looks at you, he looks. He sees you, your soul, your heart, and he wraps it in his. He makes every pain, heartache, and sorrow disappear with the way he holds, comforts, and soothes you with his words. If it wasn’t for him, I don’t know if I’d be half the person I am today.
“Wow, Dad. You’re looking hot,” I tell him as I fan myself. “Mom is going to have a hard time keeping her hands off you.”
“Who says she hasn’t had them on me already?” Dad waggles his eyebrows at me and before I can reply, Mom comes around the corner, breathless and straightening her dress.
“Really? At Elle’s wedding?” My eyes widen in horror at my parents. “What is wrong with you?”
Mom points to Dad. “Him. He’s the problem.”
To make this all worse, my dad smirks.
“I give up.” Throwing my hands in the air I start to walk away, only for my parents to say my name. I turn and they’re both coming toward me. It’s as if they’re walking like zombies, even though they’re not, with their arms outstretched as they both go for my belly.
“Ew. Please tell me you washed your hands.”
Dad laughs. “Of course.”
“With soap and water?” I ask.
“It’s like you don’t have sex, Peyton,” Mom says.
“Uh, gross and no. I’m not having this conversation with you. You’re going to be a grandma. Doesn’t that mean you stop?”
I’m not sure who laughs first. My dad’s head falls back and my mother keels over. I can’t with these people. Yet, I stand there because they have this obsession with my belly. At thirteen weeks, I have the cutest little pouch. If I wear anything tight, you can see I’m pregnant. At home, Noah insists I wear anything to show my bump off. He’s in love with it and constantly touching or talking to the baby. I don’t mind because it gives me ample opportunity to run my hand through his hair, which I absolutely love.