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Chapter thirty-three

Daphne

12 weeks

As I hold the sonogram picture of our baby, I can’t help but feel…everything. The fear, the joy, the uncertainty. It’s like my heart decided to host a parade, and every emotion I’ve ever felt is marching in step. I’m scared for what’s to come. Excited too. Terrified that I’m going to make mistakes. What if I’m not good at this? What if I mess up somehow? I push that thought away as fast as it comes because, most of all, there’s a bubbling beneath my chest that’s undeniable. I’m one hundred percent in love with that little booger and everything I plan to achieve in my life will be for our baby.

Taking out my phone, I snap a picture and send it to our family group chat. Within a minute, Mom and Finn reply.

Mom

That’s my grandbaby?

Daphne

It is

Finn

Shit, you’re really growing a human, Daph!

Mom

Thank you for sharing that, honey. I love you xx

My dad doesn’t reply, but I can see that he’s viewed the message, and within a few seconds, he thumbs up the picture. I stare at it for a beat longer than I should, the hollow feeling echoing in my chest. I guess that’s all I’m gonna get right now. Locking my phone, I leave it in my lap, telling myself it’s fine, but it’s not. It stings.

Hudson hasn’t said much since we left the office, just tapping on the steering wheel, lost in his head. That’s rare for him. Normally, he can’t go five minutes without cracking a joke or saying something totally ridiculous. It’s one of those things about him that’s equal parts charming and silly. But right now? The silence feels heavy, like he’s trying to work through something big and doesn’t know how to put it into words. And that feeling only increases when I watch his hands gripping the wheel tight.

“You okay?” I ask.

His grip on the wheel loosens, and he lets out a shaky laugh. “Yeah. I mean, no. I mean…” He glances at me. “Does it ever hit you that we’re gonna be responsible for a whole human being? Like, we are their blueprint.”

“Every second,” I admit. “It’s terrifying.”

He nods, his shoulders dropping just a fraction. “But it’s kind of amazing too, right? Like, we made that.” The awe in his voice is impossible to miss as he points at the sonogram. “They’re part you, part me. That’s wild.”

It is wild. I look down at the sonogram again, tracing the edges of the tiny, blurry shape with my thumb. For all my doubts, all my fears, there’s this one, unshakable truth sitting in my chest. This baby is already everything to me. And I can’t quite understand why my dad is acting the way he is. I’ve always had a great relationship with him, but then, I’ve always acted like the perfect daughter. It’s something that I’ve always clung to through my parents’ opinions and authority figures. Daphne, what a great example you’re setting for your classmates. Daphne’s doing so well, and she’s such a good girl in class. Of course, we can have Daphne over for a sleepover, she’s so good. And I think at some point, that language has been damaging for me. It made me believe that anything I did outside of the ‘good, perfect, great’ scope was wrong.

The fact that one night I let it all go, I let my inhibitions disappear, and I did the most non-good girl thing and got pregnant... Maybe my dad is having a hard time adjusting to that reality that I’m human, and I make mistakes. I’m adjusting too, and I’d really like it if he saw that.

“I hope they get your brains. God help us if they end up with mine.” Hudson laughs, bringing me back to the moment.

“Hey, your brain’s not so bad,” I tease and nudge his arm. “I mean, today’s not the best example of that.”

“Yeah, I kinda freaked in there,” he says, the corner of his mouth lifting.

“I kinda noticed.”

“I just kept thinking how something so tiny can be so huge for us and then the things I kept in my head were not the words spilling out.” He runs a hand down his face, groaning. “I called our baby a booger, Daph. In front of a healthcare professional.”

I bark a laugh, louder than I intended, quickly covering my mouth. “I think it was cute. It did sort of look like a booger.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“I’m not, I swear.” I make a cross over my heart as he glances at me before pulling into the school gates. “I love our little booger.”

The car comes to a stop, and he looks over at me with that handsome face of his, hazel eyes captivating me. “I love them too.”

Reality swims around us as we sit quietly in the car together. We’re not just two college kids anymore. We’re something bigger now, tied together by that little heartbeat we saw on the screen.

“I was thinking,” he says after a beat, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. “We should go to the library tomorrow.”

That’s not what I expected. “The library?” I echo with a tilt of my head. “Why?”

“For baby books,” he clarifies. “I mean, I know some stuff from when my sister was little. But she’s six years younger, so it’s not like I was there for the hard parts, you know? My mom didn’t exactly give me a play-by-play.”

I blink at him, trying to process what he’s saying. “You helped your mom with Rory?”

“Yeah, sometimes.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal, and that just makes me want to cry even more for whatever reason. It is a big deal. I know his mom was a single mom, but I just never thought about how that impacted him until right now. “I mean, I was just a kid, so it wasn’t a lot. But I’d hold her when she cried, and I remember feeding her when she started baby food. I’d make goofy faces to make her laugh.” He hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck. “But this is different. This is ours . I want to do it right, and I don’t want to just wing it. So, I figure books are a good place to start.”

Yep. Here come the water works.

I blink rapidly, trying to hold it together, but the tears are already welling up.

Shaking my head, the tears slip free because, of course, they do. “Hudson, most guys wouldn’t even think to pick up a book, let alone admit they don’t know something. And here you are, planning a whole study session.”

“Shit.” He rubs the back of his neck again, looking a little embarrassed. “But…you’re crying. Why are you crying? Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” I say quickly, swiping at my cheeks. “No, it’s just… I’m emotional, okay? This whole thing is emotional.”

He looks unconvinced but doesn’t push it. Instead, he leans back in his seat and gives me a lopsided grin. “So, you’re saying I get bonus points for admitting I’m clueless?”

Rolling my eyes, I let out a watery laugh. “Yes, Hudson, you get all the points.”

“Good,” he says, smirking now. “Because I’m gonna need them for when I inevitably screw up.”

“You’re not going to screw up,” I say, and I truly believe that. I’ve never met anyone like Hudson. He’s confident and not afraid to be who he is, not to mention he’s emotionally secure in a way that makes me feel more secure, and how that’s possible, I don’t know. But he’s constantly showing up for me and being there in every way that I need.

With his eyes locked on mine, his usual playful energy is replaced by something softer. “Thanks, Daph.”

I want to kiss him, to show him how grateful I am for everything he’s doing. But we’ve had a few moments now when he could’ve kissed me and he hasn’t. Despite him saying he wants to wear me down at the party, he hasn’t made a move yet. Do I need to give him more signs? Do I need to make the first move? The idea of that makes me feel nauseous, more so than normal, because the fear of rejection is strong inside me. It’s probably best I don’t kiss him; it’ll only complicate things. Or would it?

I manage a small smile, even as my mind reels. “So…tomorrow, library?”

He nods with a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Tomorrow, library,” he echoes, his tone lighter now. “And maybe a coffee stop, because I’m definitely gonna need caffeine for all this research.”

I laugh softly, shaking my head. “Are you gonna buy me a hot milk this time?”

“Am I ever gonna live that down?” He buries his head into his hand.

“It was cute, but no, never.”

Just as I reach for the door handle, he stops me. “Oh, hey, can I have the extra sonogram?”

“Sure,” I say.

“I thought I’d keep it, you know, in my wallet.”

My chest squeezes so hard it actually aches. I hand him the photo, my fingers trembling slightly, and I have to look away for a second, afraid he’ll see just how much this simple gesture is undoing me.

He takes it with a small smile, sliding it into his wallet like it belongs there, tucked in beside his ID. “Thanks,” he murmurs, and he doesn’t look up, his finger moving over the picture.

I step out of the car, the other sonogram still in my hand, and pause for a moment before closing the door. Leaning back down, I glance at him, my heart feeling way too full for my chest. “See you tomorrow, Hudson.”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice softer than usual. “See you tomorrow.”

Inside, I sit on my bed and stare at the picture again. It’s strange how something so small, so fragile, can feel like the most important thing in the universe. I trace the outline of the tiny, blurry shape with my thumb, a lump forming in my throat.

Then my phone rings. Liv’s picture flashes on my screen.

“Show me that baby!” she squeals excitedly before I can even get a hello in. Lifting the black-and-white picture to the video call, she immediately melts and starts crying.

“Don’t cry, I’ll cry. I can’t help it anymore; I’m like a leaky faucet.”

She cries anyway, and so do I.

“I love that baby so much already, Daph.” She wipes away the tears on her cheeks.

A hiccup of emotion gets lodged in my chest as I look at my best friend in the whole world. “I know. Me too, Liv.”

“Gah,” she breathes. “I’m sorry to call and run, but I’m heading into class, and I wanted to see before. Call me tomorrow? Love you!”

“Love you too.” And just like the tornado she is, she disappears.

Once I’ve calmed down, I glance around my dorm. My desk is covered in scattered pages from my notebook—scribbled plans for #MoreThanMoms, taglines, and notes about partnerships and athlete profiles. Some are already ready to go, waiting on my laptop. And it hits me all at once: this campaign and this baby are intertwined. I’m building both at the same time, nurturing them, trying to make something that matters. Something to find meaning in.

I glance at one of the drafts I started late last night and laugh. “Being a mom doesn’t mean losing yourself—it means finding more of who you are.” The line felt ambitious when I wrote it. But as I open my emails, I see the completed interview transcript from one of the girls on the soccer team, Sophie Morres. I’m sad I couldn’t meet her in person, since our schedules never fully matched, but when I emailed her, she was all for it. One of my questions for her was how she finds the balance between being a mom and an athlete in school.

“It’s not without challenges. Sometimes, I have to miss practice because my kid is sick, but that doesn’t mean I’m not staying awake until midnight, working out to catch up on techniques I’ve missed. It’s a balance, but one I know is good for our future.”

My hand rests over my stomach. Our future. That statement feels so real. How much she adores being a mom and an athlete, how important both are to her. This is exactly why I want to highlight this, because no one asks those questions. And they’re important.

So, with a deep breath, I bring up a new email and send off my first draft idea to CLUSports.