Mason takes one side of me. Brookes takes the other.
“You cold?” Mason asks when I lift my shirt.
“Not yet.”
The technician smiles. “You will be in about three seconds.”
She squirts gel over the small bump low on my belly, and I gasp as the cold hits my skin.
Mason immediately leans closer. “You okay?”
I laugh. “It’s just cold.”
Then the wand presses down. The screen flickers. Static shifts. Shadows move. The technician adjusts the angle, her expression focused. For one terrible second, I forget how to breathe.
Then there it is. A tiny, perfect heartbeat flickering strong and fast. A little body curled inside me, already moving, tiny limbs stretching, head turning as if our baby knows we’re watching.
Our baby.
A sob tears out of me before I can stop it.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, tears spilling freely down my cheeks. “Look. Look at our baby.”
Mason makes a rough sound beside me. His big hand finds mine, gripping tight, and when I turn my head, his eyes are wet.
Brookes leans closer to the screen, his lips parted, his face filled with a kind of wonder I’ve never seen on him before. Like he's been immediately transformed.
“That’s our kid,” Mason says, voice tight. “Holy shit.”
“Mason,” I say, laughing through tears.
“What? That’s our kid. That’s the only thing my brain can say right now.”
Brookes lets out a shaky breath. “The heartbeat.”
The technician smiles softly. “Strong heartbeat. Very strong.”
The words move through me like sunlight. Strong. Our baby is strong. I close my eyes for one brief second and whisper a prayer of thanks. Relief spreads through me, loosening every tight, fearful place inside me until all that’s left is joy.
When I open my eyes, Mason is staring at the screen like he’s afraid to blink and miss it.
Brookes reaches for my other hand. “Janey.”
I turn to him.
His eyes shine. “You’re incredible.”
My chin trembles. “I’m just lying here.”
“No.” His voice is low, rough with emotion. “You’re making our whole world.”
That does it. I cry harder.
Mason bends and kisses my forehead. “Good job, sweetheart.”
I laugh wetly. “The baby did most of the work.”
“You’re both overachievers,” he says.
