The image takes shape and the world outside the car turns to a smear of color. None of it exists—the sky, the mountains, the trees—all of it is gone in an instant. The only thing that matters is what I’m clutching in my palms. The picture isn’t of a blob but rather of a head rounding down into a face with a small bump of a nose. Lower, I can just make out a belly sprouting two little legs and an arm caught in what looks like a wave. Because itisa wave—I’m looking at a hand growing five little fingers.
“Is this real?” I whisper in awe.
Avery doesn’t reply. I look up to find her crying, tears spilling over her cheeks in silent streams. She nods. “Look at the bottom corner.”
When I do, I see the baby’s stats—a length of nearly six centimeters and an estimated age of twelve weeks. The name Avery Wilson is stamped above them, along with a date. The ultrasound was taken two days ago.
I try to speak, but I can’t. I’m unable to push the words past the lump in my throat.
“It’s real, Grant,” she says. “I’m pregnant.”
“But … how?” It’s the only question I can think to ask because Avery can’t get pregnant. What I’m looking at is impossible.
“Honestly, I don’t know,” she says. “My gynecologist thinks it’s a miracle.”
I continue to stare at the photo in a daze. A father. I’m going to bea father.
Me, Grant Wilson.
I’m going to be responsible for shaping a new life.
“Hey, breathe.”
Avery’s fingertips graze my cheek, and I realize I’m shaking. Words pour from my mouth in a jumbled mush of sound. “I don’t … I thought … I mean … wait, how long have you …”
“Known?” The corners of her lips kick up into a pair of dimples. “A while. A little over two months.”
I gawk at her. “And you’re just telling me thisnow?”
“I wanted to make sure it was going to stick first.” A sliver of fear flashes across her face and her lips firm. “It still might not. We’re not out of the woods, yet.”
“I still can’t believe this,” I say, rubbing my forehead. It must have happened in Napa. I relive the vacation in a flash of heat. Our honeymoon. A bougie, sun-splashed week full of luxury and four-star cuisine. And sex. Lots and lots of sex.
A laugh bubbles up her throat, and she wipes her eyes. “Oh, you’d better believe it. We’re going to have a family.”
“I’m going to be a dad,” I mumble in a daze.
“Yes, you are,” she says, laying her head on my shoulder. “Get ready.”
When I don’t move, she takes hold of my chin and pulls my face toward hers. “Hey, it’s going to be fine. We’re in this together. You’re going to be a great father.”
“You really think so?” I manage.
“Yes. Now, come on. I want to get this hike in while I still can.”
She gets out, and I follow, the summer sun warming my skin the second I step outside. A gentle breeze ruffles my hair and drifts over my skin.
I’m going to be a father.
“Hey,” Avery says, wagging a bottle of sunscreen at me from the other side of the car. “Can you help me with this?”
“Of course.” I make my way over to her and she presses the bottle into my palm as she pulls her auburn hair over her shoulder. Besides her smile, her hair was the first thing I noticed when I bumped into her nearly a year ago. Hair so red it stole my breath. As did her eyes. They’re this beautiful shade of light green I immediately lost myself in. One look, and I knew I was in trouble.
“Make sure you get my neck,” she says.
I don’t. I spin her around instead. She starts to protest, but I lean in and kiss her. Her lips soften, and we remain there, lost in each other for a blissful moment, until she places a hand on my chest and pushes me back with a grin. “Save your energy for the hike. There will be plenty of time for that later.”
“Fine,” I groan, but I don’t step back. Instead, I reach up and brush my thumb over her cheek.
