Page 143 of The Trouble with Flings

It’s like she turned a corner, softening those untrusting sharp edges. She finally told her supervisor about the baby. Clare is going to step in as interim principal while Jennifer is on maternity leave, and although Clare and the other staff members were surprised, they’re supportive. But the biggest change is that Jennifer no longer backs off when things get too real. She spent three of the last four weekends on the island, meeting with Holden, Roddy, and Cait, slowly weaving herself deeper into every part of my life.

It’s getting difficult to remember what any of it looked like before her.

When we showed Holden around the island, I wasn’t sure what to expect. The kid’s all locked jaw and guarded looks, but Jennifer had warned me not to push, to let him observe, so that’s what I did as we showed him all the spots that make this island special.

It was an all-day affair, but an important one. If he’s going to paint something for the community, he should know about his new world. We showed him Fisherman’s Wharf in Seaport, walked through the wildlife refuge, cruised through Rock Harbor, and had lunch at Rock Bottom. I shared island stories about the families who have been here for generations and the ones who washed ashore in storms and never left, the way my father shared with me. I bragged about the old pirate ship Zev Braden discovered off the coast of the island and told them that Randi was on the dive team and helped salvage jewels and gold. I even shared stories of the hilarious Steele-Remington-Silver pranks we’ve done over the years, hoping to spark his interest in something. Jennifer was fascinated by every detail and asked a million questions.

Holden didn’t say much of anything.

We walked the cliffs at Brighton Bluffs and went into the old lighthouse by Fortune’s Cove, where I told them the legend of Fortune’s Landing. Bartholomew Silver crashed his boat, the Fortune, in 1601, and left out the rumor that he was found naked with a harem of drunken women. When we walked through Chaffee’s town square, a woman was playing guitar in front of the fountain. We stuck around to hear her play a few songs, and before heading home, we crossed the bridge to Bellamy Island, my sister’s namesake.

I didn’t think Holden was into any of it. Until we took him home, and out of nowhere he said, “I know what I wanna paint.”

I could tell Jennifer was trying to contain her excitement when she said, calmly, “You do?” because it reminded me of how I treaded lightly with her for so long.

Holden had shoved his hands in his pockets and said, “A map of the island. Like…for people who are new here. Maybe with the stories and stuff on it. I wouldn’t’ve known about any of that. It’s kinda cool.”

Jennifer looked like someone had handed her the moon, and my chest swelled a little, too. This island is my family’s legacy, and hearing Holden call it cool, like it was becoming part of his story, too, and Jennifer being part of that, felt like a gift. I hope our child will find it cool, too.

“I wish they’d start already,” Jennifer says, drawing me back to the moment. “I’m lying here thinking of all the things that could go wrong.”

I kiss the back of her hand. “How about we don’t catastrophize today? The baby’s been kicking, you feel good, and your checkups have gone well. I’m sure everything is fine, but if there are any issues, we’ll get through them together.”

She takes a deep breath, nodding.

The door opens, and a youngish brunette walks in. “Sorry for the wait. I’m Dana, and I’ll be doing your sonogram. Are you ready to see your baby?”

“We sure are,” I say, and Jennifer squeezes my hand. “If possible, we’d rather not find out the sex of the baby. Our families are planning a gender reveal, and we want to be surprised, too.” We’d waffled for days about finding out before everyone else, but in the end, we decided there are so few surprises in life, we wanted to experience it with them.

“How fun,” Dana says. “I can’t control the baby’s movements. It might decide to go full Monty on us, but I’ll do my best. Do you want me to write down the sex of the baby and put it in a sealed envelope so you can take it with you?”

“That would be great,” I say.

“Thank you,” Jennifer adds.

“I’ll start with the screen toward me, just in case.” She turns the screen and puts gel on Jennifer’s stomach. “Ready?”

I’m not ready. I thought I was prepared. I’ve been looking forward to this for weeks, but my heart is racing, and I’m tossing prayers up to the powers that be that our baby is healthy. But when Jennifer looks at me with that worried smile, I don’t dare let her sense my panic as we both say, “Yes.”

I keep my expression even, brushing my thumb over the back of her hand like nothing has changed, and talk to her to keep her calm as Dana moves the wand over her belly, and a swish-swish-swish sound fills the room.

“That’s your baby’s heartbeat,” Dana says. “Nice and strong.”

Emotion climbs into my throat so fast, it burns. My eyes sting without warning. Jennifer makes a soft sound that nearly undoes me, and when I look over at her, there are tears in her eyes, too. We both laugh a little, which might seem like a strange response, but it’s all I can do, and I think it’s all she can, too.

Dana turns the screen toward us, and I lose my breath at the fuzzy image as she points out our baby’s head, legs, and its tiny hand. I’m completely transfixed, as if gravity itself has shifted, pulling every part of me toward this tiny being, a life we created together, and a love so fierce, I can’t look away.

Dana points out our baby’s heart, rapidly fluttering in its chest, and says all the measurements are right on track, but I barely hear what else she says, because something is happening in my chest that feels like my heart is doubling in size.

“That’s our little bean,” Jennifer says shakily, her eyes glassy.

I grip her hand tighter, wanting to say so many things, but my thoughts are spinning. The sound that leaves me is half laugh, half something dangerously close to breaking apart. I lean down and kiss her. “You’re incredible, you know that? Watching you do this, carry our baby, nurture it, change your life, and give up your whole body for these months…” My throat tightens. “Jesus, wild girl. I don’t have words big enough to describe how in awe of you I am.”

Fresh tears spill down her cheeks, but she smiles through them, squeezing my hand harder.

Dana moves a box of tissues closer to us and says, “You sure you don’t want to know if it’s a girl or a boy?”

I hand Jennifer a tissue and lift a brow, allowing her to decide.