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“Two little Theos.”

I recoil. “Absolutely fucking not.”

He laughs. “Can you imagine?”

“No. And I won't.”

“Three boys?”

“I'm leaving you.”

“Four?”

“I'll fake my death.”

His grin widens.

I push past him toward the bedroom. “One more Theo and you're getting a vasectomy.”

“That feels extreme.”

“We just spent forty-five minutes tonight arguing with someone about whether four noodles count as four bites.”

“And it was an adorable argument he was making.”

“Fuck you.”

“Could be how we get that next baby.”

I turn around.

He's smiling.

I point at him. “Keep talking and you’ll find yourself celibate for the rest of your life.”

“You’d never. I fuck too good.”

I’m about to retort but he grabs me, tossing me onto the bed and crawling over me.

He’s right. He does fuck too good.

Chapter forty-one

Simon

Itap my foot against the scuffed linoleum and keep my eyes on the weird sage green walls that I’m sure are supposed to be calming. Veronica sits beside me, one hand resting over the budding swell of her belly, and talking insistently about her plans for her gender reveal this weekend.

I still don’t want any part of that bullshit. I’ve told her straight up I’m not attending, but that hasn’t stopped her from telling me every detail of the party.

“Veronica Wheelmen?” the nurse calls.

I follow down the hallway, my nerves tightening with every step. I’m trying to plan for what this is going to be like, I was deployed when Blaire had her anatomy scan for Theo. I found out I was having a son through my commanding officer, who’d pulled me aside between missions and said, “You’re having a boy,” like he was reading off my chores list.

Not exactly the moment a man pictures when he imagines finding out he’s going to have a son.

And now here I am—walking into an exam room, with the wrong woman, about to see another child that might be mine. The guilt sits heavy in my chest. No part of me wants this baby to be mine. But if it is… I want to be a good father. I refuse to repeat the mistakes I made with Theo and Blaire. Still, the thought of seeing that tiny heartbeat on the screen—of possibly feeling something real for a child that isn’t part of the life I’ve finally started rebuilding with the woman I love—leaves my stomach in knots.

The nurse leads us into the ultrasound room and gestures to the table. “The doctor will be right in.”