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“But if Grant is the biological father, he could take the baby. Or have visitation. I could have to send the baby with him and not be there, and he could⁠—”

Her voice catches.

I slide the hand resting on her thigh around her back and pull her tighter against my side, keeping my other palm over her stomach, wrapping myself around her.

“I know.”

Her voice is shaky when she says, “You don’t know what that would look like.”

“No, I don’t. Neither do you.” I rub my hand slowly over her back. “So we find out if it’s even an issue first, and then we figure out the rest.”

Her gaze drops to my hand covering her belly.

A second later, there’s a nudge against the center of my palm. My fingers spread over the spot, and I wait for another one.

I’ve been feeling the baby move for a few weeks now, and somehow it still gets me every fucking time.

Another smaller movement rolls beneath my hand, and I can’t help but smile.

Goldie watches my hand move as the baby goes to town in there. “But you wanted this baby to be biologically yours.”

It’s fair of her to assume I’d be upset, and I am, but not as much as she might think.

Pops doesn’t share a drop of my blood, and there has never been a single day of my life when that made him any less my dad. He chose me, raised me, showed up for everything, and loved me exactly the same as Dad did. If anyone knows biology isn’t what makes someone a father, it’s me.

But that doesn’t mean biology means nothing to me.

I’ve wanted kids for as long as I can remember, and yeah, part of that dream was having a child who came from my blood. I want to look at this kid someday and see pieces of Goldie mixed with pieces of me. I want that connection too.

“Yeah,” I say. The smile I couldn’t help a second ago fades. “I still do.”

A tear slips down her cheek, and I wipe it away with my thumb.

“I’m sorry—” she says.

“No.” I grip her chin and force her to look at me. “Listen to me. Really hear what I’m saying.” I wait for her nod before I continue. “I want this baby to be mine in every way imaginable. I’m not going to sit here and pretend I don’t.”

She presses her lips together, and I feel her fingers tighten around my shirt.

“If the test says Grant’s the biological father, it’s going to hurt. I don’t know how much until it happens, and hopefully we never have to find out. But that doesn’t change what I just told you.” My fingers tighten on her chin when she tries to lower her face. “I want this baby. This one. No matter who gave it half of their DNA. That’s never going to change.”

Goldie’s trembling, but she lets out a long exhale. It doesn’t stop the tears, but I’d like to think they’re of relief now. Her cheeks are blotchy, her nose is pink, and her hair’s a mess from crying into my neck earlier.

She’s still so fucking beautiful.

“Come here.”

She’s already moving before I finish saying it. I pull her into my chest, and she buries her face under my jaw while I tug her onto my lap.

I hold her tighter, and for half a second I almost say it. The three words that’ve been trying to force their way out for weeks.

I love you.

I stop myself at the last second, but it’s getting harder not to admit the truth out loud.

No doubt the words would reassure her. I know they would. But I also know Goldie. If I tell her for the first time while she’s crying, scared this might be the thing that finally makes me leave, she’ll always wonder if I said it because she needed to hear it, not because I really meant it.

I don’t want our first I love you tangled up in any of this. I don’t want her to look back on the memory of when I told her I loved her for the first time and think of Grant or the stress of this day.