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“You look at me like this, and I know from Graham and Stella that right around this time last night, when you were looking up at Graham all doe-eyed and stoned, lips soft and happy, that you were learning about that tattoo and you were telling him you loved me. Proof is all over your face, honey, and it’s beautiful.”

She takes the phone in her hand and pulls it close.

Seconds pass where all I hear is my heartbeat thumping against my chest.

She shakes her head and I grit my teeth together. Arguing her into admitting she loves me might not be the best idea. Handing me my phone back, she drops her hand back to my hip. I slide the phone into my pocket and press my finger to her chin, tilting her head up so I can look her in the eyes.

“I love you, Cara. I love you and I love our baby and I want to be a family. Please, come back home with me.”

She blinks, pretty, beautiful blue eyes shimmering with something much more hopeful than the stormy waters earlier. “Okay. I’ll come back home with you.”

My entire chest collapses with relief and I cup her cheeks, holding her firmly in the palm of my hands. “Do you love me?”

“I do. Please don’t make me regret it.”

“Never.” I take her mouth in mine, sealing my promise with a kiss, and when we’re done, I take my family home where they belong.

Chapter 30

Cara

“Stop pacing, honey, you’ll wear yourself out.”

I shoot a glare at Braxton and spin on my heels, pacing another lap in the doctor’s incredibly tiny waiting room. There’s no way I can wear myself out when there’s only ten feet of room.

“I’m nervous.” We’re in the waiting room at the radiologist’s office, moments away from our ultrasound. We’re finding out if we finally call Squirt a boy or a girl, and I’m so excited I can’t stand myself.

“I know. Come here.” Like always when Braxton gets bossy, I listen, mostly because I’m learning every day he only has my best interests at heart. When I get close to him, he grabs my hand and pulls me onto his lap.

I fall with anoomphof surprise and look back to the nurse at the reception desk. “You can’t have me on your lap in the waiting room.”

He grins. It’s a grin that makes me warm all over. “Ah, but I can have you whenever and wherever I want.”

Other parts of me not only get warm, but wet. “Don’t turn me on in the doctor’s office, Braxton Henley.”

“Cara Thompson?”

Both of us turn our heads in the direction of the feminine voice. A nurse is standing at the door, blond hair pulled up into a topknot, teal blue scrubs on and a clipboard in her hand.

“I think that’s our cue,” Braxton says, his hand on my back, guiding me to my feet.

“Yeah.”

“Let’s go see what we made, shall we?” He grins down at me. I pick my purse up off the chair and look at him over my shoulder.

“Boy,” I guess, because all the midwives’ tales I’ve read online have told me that’s what our little squirt is.

“Healthy,” Braxton counters. He always says it and now, I can’t believe I ever accused him of only loving our child if it was a boy.

He absolutely, one hundred percent, doesn’t care either way. Even when I’ve tried to prod him into choosing a gender he just shakes his head, kisses me and then my belly, and says, “As long as it’s healthy.”

—

“Phil’s diner?” I ask when Braxton pulls up to the train car diner he took me to after the first midwife’s appointment.

“It’s where we began, sort of,” Braxton says and grins at me. “And it’s a great place to celebrate.”

It’s not exactly where I’d choose to celebrate the fact we’re having a boy. I was right!