To See the Summer Sky is Poetry

“They set a date.” His eyes widened and he pursed his lips. You took a deep breath and continued, “A month from now.”

“A month from now?” he almost shouted, and your resolve finally crumbled, unable to hold back the tears anymore.

“I’m sorry,” you shook your head while you tried to wipe the tears away. “I can’t– I–”

You were in his arms before you realized what had happened. “Hey, hey,” he soothed. “You’re okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“How?” you asked. “How is it going to be ok? I’m getting married, Steve!”

He gently sat you on the couch and then pulled a chair from the corner to sit across from you, close enough that your knees touched. “I’ll talk to my dad. Buy us some time at least.”

You shook your head, remembering the most damning detail. “It won’t work. Everything’s already signed.” You squeezed your eyes shut. “I signed. They made me sign, Steve. I’m so sorry!”

You felt him grab your hand and you reluctantly opened your eyes, afraid of what you’d find on his face. But when you made yourself look at him, all that was there was concern for you. How had you been so lucky as to find this man? Four years ago when your mother had finally been desperate enough to accept another arrangement, you’d only expected more of the same. Just another old man with a say as to what your future would look like. Joseph was exactly who you’d thought he’d be. But Steve, you never could have dreamed up Steve. Kind, attentive, generous, and so beautiful. The two of you quickly became very good friends, and then, after a drunken night out, something else. As you found yourself repeatedly falling into his bed, you knew you should stop. You both did. But you couldn’t. How were you supposed to resist him? He was your one good thing. So you kept it between the two of you, knowing your family would never stand for it. And before you knew it, you’d fallen in love with him. You’d kept that a secret too. 

His voice brought you back to the present, his thumb gently moving over the back of your hand. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said, softly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“What are we going to do, Steve?” you whispered. “I don’t think I can lose you.”

“You’ll never lose me,” he said, in his most serious voice. “Not ever. No matter what.” Neither of you said anything for the next several moments, Steve seemingly lost in thought, while you just tried to remember how to breathe. Then, finally, he spoke again. “Maybe nothing really has to change. We’ve kept this a secret for so long. We can just keep doing that.”

You took a deep breath, still not ready to confront the worst part of this. “He lives in Boston,” you said quietly. “I’ll be moving to Boston.”

 Steve’s face fell, his hold on your hands getting tighter. “Who.” he said, without any inflection.

“Ransom Drysdale.”

Steve stood up so fast that the chair tumbled over behind him. “No,” he growled. “Absolutely not!”

“Steve,” you sighed, suddenly so tired, looking up at him from the couch. 

He didn’t say anything, just stood there with his hands on his hips, shaking his head, his jaw ticking, staring into the corner. 

You sank into the silence, holding your head in your hands. You couldn’t believe how quickly everything had fallen apart. You should have been more prepared. Of course, this day would come.

Finally, after you didn’t even know how long, Steve spoke again, still staring into the corner. “We could just go.”

Your head shot up. “What?”

He turned his attention back to you. “We could go. Tonight. Why not?”

“A thousand reasons why not!” You were suddenly shouting. What was he thinking? Where had this come from? You couldn’t keep up. “I– What? Where would we even go?!”

He shrugged. “Somewhere. Anywhere. I have a little money put away, don’t you? Anywhere we want.”

You wanted to shake him. “Steve, that’s not–” You shook your head. “That isn’t a plan!”

“You want a plan?” he asked.

You stood up, throwing your hands in the air. “Yes! At minimum!”

“Ok,” he nodded and then grinned at you. “Come back in an hour and I’ll have a plan.”

“Steve,” you breathed, helplessly. 

He stepped back into your space, taking your face in his hands. “I love you. More than anything. Do you love me?”

Your eyes fluttered shut for just a moment then looked back at him. “Yes. You know I do.”

He nodded as a genuine smile lit up his entire face. He was so beautiful. “I think, I’ve always known we might have to do this. Somewhere in the back of my mind, it’s always been there. I’m not losing you. Especially not to Ransom Drysdale,” he growled the name. “Go home, get Lola. Maybe an overnight bag. Then come back here and I’ll have a plan for you.”

You searched his face, for what you didn’t entirely know. He was confident, resolute. Sure. Despite yourself, you nodded. “Ok.”

You started to pull away but his hands on your face wouldn’t let you. You looked at him in question and he shook his head. “I can’t believe you’ve been in my home all this time, and I haven’t kissed you yet. What’s wrong with me?” He leaned in and kissed you, gently at first, but as soon as you started kissing him back, he made it more passionate, filthier. It felt like he poured everything he wanted you to know into it. How much he loved you. How sure he was of a future together. This, of all things, had you believing, too, that maybe it was possible.

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As you moved into the hall, you were surprised to find Ransom’s door wide open. The far bedside lamp was on, but his bed was empty. But when you went downstairs, none of the lights were on. You cautiously flipped on the light in the kitchen, checking around, but the whole floor was empty. That was a bit odd, but not enough to interrupt your mission. You went straight to the pantry and got out the jar of peanut butter, grabbing a spoon from the drawer. As you were about to go back upstairs, something outside, by the back door, caught your eye. You stopped and waited until you saw movement again, so you cautiously moved forward and peeked your head outside. Ransom was standing a few feet to the side of the door, his gaze on the trees that lined the yard. There was a glass of whiskey in his hand, but it looked untouched.

You came out to stand next to him, closing the door behind you. “Sorry,” he said, very quietly, “did I wake you?”

You weren’t sure how that could have happened, when he was standing alone in the dark, completely silent. “No,” you answered. “I was just hungry.”

He glanced down at what you were holding. His nose wrinkled. “You’re eating peanut butter straight from the jar.”

“Yup,” you confirmed with a smile. “It was the only thing we had that sounded good. What I really want is a burger to dip in it.”

He raised his eyebrow at you. “A burger? To dip in peanut butter?”

“Uh huh! With extra pickles and extra mustard. And jalapeños.” Your stomach gave a little rumble, as if to cement your position on the matter.

Ransom wrinkled his nose. “That sounds disgusting.”

“Yeah,” you agreed with a sigh. “I want it so bad.”

“So I guess that means your appetite is back.”

“Yeah,” you gave him a relieved smile. “Finally.”

He nodded. “That’s good,” he said, quietly.

You waited a beat, comfortable in the silence, and then asked, “What are you doing up?”

He shrugged, looking back out at the trees. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

“Mmm,” you hummed in response. You could have gone back in, finished your snack, gone back to bed. But you didn’t. You weren’t sure why. But you settled in next to him and looked out at the trees.

After several minutes, he added, “My brain just won’t turn off.”

“Oh yeah?” you asked, not turning your attention to him.

“Yeah,” he said, quietly. There was another very long beat before he continued, “I’m not going to be good at this.”

“Good at what?” you asked softly.

He shrugged, resolutely not looking at you. “Any of this. I have no idea how to be a father.” He swallowed, swirling around the ice in his drink but not taking a sip. “Or a husband. I don’t know how to be good at it.”

“Oh,” was all you said at first, his words landing in your chest. Then, “I don’t know how to do it either, be a wife or mother. Or,” you stopped, remembering all of your mother’s words and advice since you were a little girl and how hard you’d been trying to shut them out recently. “I guess I know how to be a certain version of a wife, but I don’t think that’s the kind I want to be.”

He finally looked at you, his eyes soft, a deep blue in the dark. “Like your mom, you mean.”

“Yeah,” you whispered.

“Hmm…” another swirl of his glass, “was she a good mom? To you?”

“Um…” you started, fully turning your head away, but you still felt his eyes on you. “I don’t know. I guess–“ You sighed. You knew the answer even though you didn’t want to say it. “No. No, I don’t think she was. Not in a malicious way, she just- I don’t think she ever had the capabilities. I think she was too beaten down by the time I came along. She loved me in the only way she was able, but… But maybe that wasn’t enough.” You blinked back a few tears and shook your head. The steady chirping of crickets filled the quiet. You tried to let it calm you.

“My parents never loved me,” Ransom said after a long enough beat for you to pull yourself together. “I know that for sure. They’d tell you they do, but they don’t. I’ve known it since I was a kid.”

You put the spoon in the peanut butter and set it down on the patio next to you. With both hands you cradled your stomach. You were starting to really notice it changing, now that you were officially in your second trimester. Now that there was no reason to try to hide it. “I want to love them so much, but I just, I’m afraid I won’t know how.”

Ransom put his glass down on the ledge behind him and then took a step towards you. He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at you very carefully. Then he took another step, reached a hand toward your middle and stopped. “Uh, do you mind if– Can I?“

It took you a moment to understand what he was asking for. Then, “Oh! Uh, yeah, sure.” You moved your own hands from your belly to make room for his. He carefully put both hands on you, cradling whoever was inside. He didn’t say anything, didn’t even really look up at you. But he stood there for a long time, holding you so gently, staring at your stomach like maybe if he stared hard enough, he could unlock some secret of the universe.

Eventually, you broke the silence, speaking softly in an effort to not disturb the peace you felt here in the dark. “I think,” his eyes shot up to meet yours at the sound of your voice. You gulped at the intensity of his gaze but kept going. “I think that as long as we try, we’ll be giving them more than we ever got. Maybe it still won’t be enough, but, it’ll be something. We just have to try.”

Ransom visibly swallowed, then looked you right in the eye and nodded. He took a step back and picked up his drink from where he’d left it, but he still didn’t drink it. He seemingly just needed something to do with his hands.

You stood in companionable silence for another long moment. Just as you were readying yourself to leave him alone with his thoughts and go back to bed, he spoke again. “What do you think about this house?”

“What?” was the only thing you could say to the strange abruptness of the question.

He was staring absently into the house now, a pronounced crease between his brows. “I keep trying to imagine a little kid running around here and I just can’t.”

Oh. You remembered back to that first day when you found out you were pregnant. You’d tried and failed to do the same thing. “No, I guess I can’t really either. And–“ you paused, finding your words, and he turned his attention to you, “when I first got here, I remember thinking that there was nothing in this house that seemed to have anything of you in it.”

He looked back into the living room through the large windows. “Linda got me this house when I turned twenty-five. It was already decorated and fully furnished when I moved in. I don’t know, I guess it was just the place I lived. Nothing more. And I never really thought about it.”

You didn’t say anything in response. He was clearly thinking through something. You took the moment to look at him, here in just the light coming out through the window. He looked different, you thought, now that you were actually getting to know him. Softer, maybe. Or smaller? Or, just, more like him.

“Maybe,” he said after several moments, “maybe it could be good to find a new place. Somewhere that fits all of us.”

“Yeah,” you said, quietly, a warmth moving through you. “Yeah, that could be really nice.”

He hummed in affirmation, and finally took a sip of his drink, before decisively putting it down again.

He didn’t say anything more, so you decided it was a good time to head back to bed. You quietly moved to the door, then stopped and turned back to him. “Hey, Ransom,” you called. He looked up at you, questioning, ready. “There’s still so much about this that really scares me, but I don’t think I’m scared of doing it all with you. Not anymore.”

The way he held your gaze at that was intense. Like he could really see you. And you could see him too. He swallowed roughly and then nodded. “Yeah,” he said. It came out rough. “Me too.”

You just looked at each other for a few more seconds. Then, with your hand on the door, you nodded back at him. “Okay. Well, goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight,” he said, soft and quiet. You felt his eyes on you until you were all the way inside.

Once you got upstairs, your room was empty. You went across the hall, and sure enough, Lola was curled up next to Ransom’s pillow. You smiled to yourself then went back to your room, leaving the door open, just a bit, a little dog-sized crack, in case either of them changed their minds.

You shouldn’t have been surprised how quickly things moved after that. If you’d learned anything about him it was that once he’d made up his mind about something, he acted quickly. The next week, Ransom had set up a meeting with a real estate agent—completely unaffiliated with his mother—and a week after that you were looking at houses. It felt surreal, actively making plans for your future family. But as the growth of your stomach became more noticeable every day, that future was starting to feel a lot more like your present.

There were some differences, it’d turned out, in how you and Ransom had pictured that future. You’d had your sites set on somewhere in Boston proper. Ransom’s empty neighborhood only added to your feelings of isolation and you were sick of it. You missed your apartment in downtown LA. and you wanted something urban again. You wanted parks and restaurants and walkability and culture. You wanted noise and activity and life.

Ransom couldn’t understand that. Especially with a baby on the way. He wanted privacy and quiet and space. But Ransom had a car he loved driving. Ransom had a job that got him out of the house everyday. Ransom had never had to worry about feeling isolated.

So you silenced the voice in your head that always sounded like your mom and put your foot down. This new life you were starting together would not involve another house that didn’t have neighbors. A house that made you feel like a ghost. A house that cut you off from society. So you stared Ransom down until he threw his hands up in exasperation.

Your real estate agent Deborah did her best to bridge the gulf between you, mostly looking at inner-ring suburbs that were quieter and upscale without feeling dead. You’d seen a few houses so far and at each one both you and Ransom had found reasons to turn them down. You hoped this one might be different. You were ready to have at least one part of your new life with this baby settled.

The car pulled up in front of a three-story, swell-front house in Brookline. It was constructed from red brick with black trim. There were brightly colored flower beds lining the walk up to the front door. It felt homey, at least from the outside. As much as you tried to focus on taking it all in, you were quickly distracted by the sight of Ransom, already there, pacing in front of the property and growling into his phone. You turned to the driver, asking him to wait there for you, as you weren’t sure if Ransom would be coming home when you were done or would need to return to work. As he nodded and got back in the car, you headed to Ransom who’d ended his conversation and now was shaking his head in frustration.

“Everything okay?” you asked him as you got close.

His shoulders relaxed at the sight of you. “Just fucking Harlan,” he said with an eye roll as he greeted you with a hug. That was something he’d been doing lately. Since that awful dinner at his grandfather’s house. It was nice. It was really nice. “He wants the baby to take his last name.”

That stopped you cold. “What?”

“Yeah,” Ransom scowled. “I think if he had it to do over again, he would have figured out a way to get my name changed when he made me his heir. But he didn’t, so now he wants to correct it with my heir.”

Your hands instinctively went to your belly. What if this baby isn’t your heir? a tiny voice asked. A voice that had been getting bigger ever since Harlan’s toast to your son at that dinner. But saying that out loud felt too much like tempting fate, so instead you voiced a safer anxiety. “The baby will have a different last name from us?”

“Hey, no. Don’t worry. I’ll figure out a way to talk him down. I promise.” He gently placed his hand on the small of your back. “Now, come on, let’s go let Deborah try to convince us that this is the house.”

You nodded, letting your hands relax at your sides, and let him guide you up the front steps to where Deborah was waiting to let you in.

Your first impression was that everything was very beige. It was staged beautifully. But god, you hated the color scheme. The paint, all the fixtures. All so beige. It was oppressive.

Deborah showed you through the house. The finished basement, the semi-open plan living and dining spaces on the first floor, the bedrooms and en suites on the second. It was nice, you supposed, fine. But it just felt like a house. You didn’t know what would push you over into loving it.

So, instead of looking around at the rooms you passed through, you started watching Ransom. You could see his keen eyes taking in every detail. You wondered what he was seeing. More than you were, it seemed. But you couldn’t tell what direction he was leaning. You still found him so hard to read.

Deborah ended the tour on the third floor. “This floor would make a lovely au pair’s suite,” she said with a soft smile toward your pregnant belly. You and Ransom hadn’t talked about that yet, the nanny situation. Only that you both lamented having been completely raised by nannies. “Or if you decide against live-in help, easily convertible into a set of offices.” She looked to you and then Ransom, who was peering around the small common living space. “Well, I’ll let the two of you explore a bit on your own. I’ll be right downstairs if you have any questions.”

You thanked her as she left, then turned to Ransom who was looking at you, a soft smile on his face. “This is the one, right?” he asked you.

“You think?” you asked back, looking around, trying to see what you were missing.

“I do,” he nodded. “I think it’s exactly what we need.”

You wrinkled your nose at the beige walls that surrounded you. “I hate all the colors.”

Ransom gave you a smile that you could only describe as affectionate. It made your stomach swoop oddly. “That’s fine,” he said. “We’ll get a decorator. Have it exactly how we want before we even move in.” He paused and his expression grew more careful. “You really don’t see it?”

You sighed as you looked around again. “I mean, I don’t hate it. And I’m trying, but…” You gave a helpless shrug. “I’m sorry.”

One last long, careful look at you had him asking, “Can I show you?” with his hand outstretched to take yours.

You only hesitated for a moment before putting your hand in his. “Okay.”

He quickly brought you down to the second floor, his hand warm and snug around your own. He stopped in the hallway. “We can figure out rooms for each of us eventually. You can have the primary if you want. I–“ He abruptly stopped, then shook his head. There was a look in his eyes that you couldn’t read. But then he gestured to the room directly across from the primary and said, “But that’s the nursery.”

You let him lead you inside. It was a large room with a window directly opposite the door. There were built in bookcases on each side of the window, with a low, padded window seat that ran between them. It was lovely.

Ransom came up behind you, close enough that you could feel a hint of his body heat, and pointed, over your shoulder, to one corner. “That’s where the crib will go. Something to match the built-ins.” He moved your attention to the opposite wall. “Some toy chests over there.” And then back to the space next to one of the bookshelves. “And a comfy rocking chair in the corner here. So we can sit with them.”

“Oh,” was all you could say. Tears had started to prick at the corners of your eyes. It wasn’t just that you could see what he was describing. It was that he could see it. That he had thought of the kind of room he wanted for your child. That he so clearly wanted them to be happy.

“We could do a forest theme. Sage and dark green walls, knick knacks on the shelves, get some big stuffed animals.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, trying to keep your emotion out of your voice. “That sounds really nice.”

He grabbed your hand again. “Okay, come on. There’s more.”

He brought you downstairs next, and into the kitchen.

It was large, spacious, with two sliding doors that could separate it from the rest of the house if needed. There was an island with a large gas range on top of it and stools lining one side. It was nice, with all the appliances you could want in a kitchen.

Ransom was watching you take it in. “We’ll have a housekeeper who can prepare meals, of course, but I want this to be a place you can use whenever you want. But only when you want. When the doors are open, I think the sight lines are pretty good to the rest of this level.” He walked over to the breakfast nook that sat under a large window to the backyard, looking at something you couldn’t see. “I really like this,” he said, quietly. “The kid could sit here and color or play or whatever, while you cooked. Or I could sit here with them, and talk to you. Keep you company. I think this could be a really nice place to spend time in.”

You swallowed harshly around a lump in your throat. He was imagining so much. “Yeah,” you agreed, starting to see what he saw. “You’re right. It really could be.”

“Okay,” he said with a soft smile. “One last thing.” Then you let him pull you, a little dazed, into the backyard.

It was bigger than you’d expected, due to it being a corner lot. But you thought the property must have been extended at some point as well. There was a carriage house with the same red brick and black trim as the main house converted into a multi-car garage in the far corner. A paved drive leading from it to the street guarded by a wrought-iron gate. Nearer to the house, there was a small patio, big enough for a dining area. It was beautifully landscaped, surrounded by a tall, thick hedge screen.

“It’s not huge, but big enough I think. Lola would have plenty of room to run around. And maybe we could put a little swing set or something over there, some sort of play area” he gestured back to the dining area, “and you and I could spend nice nights out here, watch the kid play–“

He kept talking. You know he did. But you were so overwhelmed you couldn’t take in anymore. He hadn’t just imagined his own life in this house, with you as a background character. No, he’d imagined the three of you here, as a family, and the way these walls might contain your whole lives together. You were so overcome with feeling. You’d never felt like this before. You lunged for him without a single conscious thought to do it, connecting your lips to his.

Ransom went very still. Shocked. His whole body stiff against yours. Just as you felt him start to relax minutely, you brain finally caught up with your body and you pulled away, taking several steps back. Your hands came up to your mouth in horror. “Oh my god,” you muttered. What had you done? Why had you done that? “I-“ you started and stopped. You wanted to apologize but you didn’t know how to get the words out. And he was standing there, stock still, just staring at you. “I, um,” you swallowed harshly. “You’re, uh, you’re right. This house is ours. Um. You should go tell Deborah. Get the process started. But I–“ You tried to force yourself to breathe. “I have to go.”

And then you ran away, even with him calling after you. Back to the waiting car and then back home.

You beat Ransom home. Of course you did. Hopefully, he’d be gone for a while, getting things settled with Deborah. You didn’t know how you would face him. You fed Lola and let her out, and then you just paced around the lower floor of the house, round and round, before you finally got out your phone and typed a message.

Shit Steve, I think I really fucked up

The three dots to show he was typing appeared immediately, then disappeared, and reappeared.

Give me two minutes

You reacted with a thumbs up and waited. Two minutes later, on the dot, your phone rang. “Hey Steve,” you answered.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, urgently. “Do I need to come out there and beat someone up?”

“No,” you sighed. “This one’s all my fault.”

“Chip, what happened?”

You braced yourself. “I kissed Ransom.”

Steve didn’t say anything in response. For too long. Oh god. You really had fucked up. “Steve?” you asked nervously.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, sounding caught off guard. “I thought– Is that it?”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean ‘is that it?’”

“I– I guess I don’t really understand what the problem is here. You think you fucked up because you… kissed your husband?”

“No, that’s not– When you say it like that–“ you struggled, then sighed. “You know that’s not how we are.”

There was another long pause from him and when he spoke again his voice was shockingly soft. “Are you sure about that?”

“Steve, I– What are you talking about?”

“Chip, I was there. From everything I saw and everything you’ve told me since, it’s obvious he cares about you. And vice versa.”

This time it was you who was quiet for a moment as you gathered your thoughts. “I know that he cares about me,” you said, and you meant it. You could finally admit that you felt his care every day. “But caring about me isn’t the same thing as wanting that kind of relationship with me. We’re friends and–“ you stopped, not sure how to say exactly what you meant. “We’re friends.”

When he paused this time, the silence was thoughtful. “Okay, Chip. I can tell you're really panicking and I want to help you, but I need you to help me understand why you’re so upset."

“I just–“ You took a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears that wanted to form. “I don’t want to have ruined everything.”

“But what if you didn’t?” he asked, his voice gentle. “What if he feels the same way?”

You immediately shook your head, even though he couldn’t see you. “No,” you argued, voice quiet. “No, he can’t. That’s not something I get to have.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, hesitantly.

“I– I’ve always known that that isn’t for me. I– That’s not– Even being friends is more than I ever imagined I’d get to have. I should be so grateful to have a husband who cares about me at all. It feels too greedy to want anything else.”

“Oh, Chipmunk.” His voice was so sad. “It’s okay to want good things for yourself. I want everything good for you. I want you to have it.”

Your eyes were fully watering now. “I don’t think I know how to do that.”

“Listen, you know I hate to say anything nice about Ransom. But I think he really wants to take good care of you. If that’s true, he’d want you to talk to him about this. I think it’ll go better than you expect. I think you can trust him.”

“I want to,” you whispered.

“Talk to him,” he ordered. “Promise me you will.”

“Okay,” you acquiesced, your voice so small.

“It’s going to be okay, Chip.” He sounded so sure. “No matter what happens, it’s going to be okay.”

And for a moment, you were ten again, believing everything your big brother told you. “Okay,” you said. “Thank you.”

“Always,” he said, without hesitation. Then he sighed. “All right. I should probably get back to my meeting.”

“What? Oh no, you didn’t–“

“Stop, this was more important. But I should get back now. Let me know how things go.”

“I will. Thank you, Steve.”

“Love you, Chip. Bye.”

Love you. Bye Steve.” You hung up the phone and tried to hold onto the feeling that things might be all right.

You’d done your best to try to settle yourself down. You’d sat on the couch. You’d picked up the book you were in the middle of and opened it to where you’d left off. But you didn’t read. You couldn’t. Your eyes stayed locked on the front door. You had no idea how this was going to go.

Even with all of your attention on the door, you still startled when it opened and Ransom walked in. He froze, a little, when he noticed you on the couch. He was carrying something. Your eyes flicked to it as you stood up, taking a few steps forward, but still leaving a gulf between you.

“I got you something. To eat,” he said, shockingly timid, gesturing at you with the greasy, white paper bag in his hand. He set it down on the kitchen island and took a step back.

You walked to the island and very carefully opened it. It was a burger, absolutely slathered in peanut butter. With extra mustard, extra pickles, and jalapeños. The exact burger you’d told him you’d been craving.

“Sorry,” he said quietly, “it took me a while to find a place that could do it. Because, you know, it’s disgusting.”

You just stared at it for a long moment, ignoring his teasing. Those feelings welling up inside you again. But no matter how he cared for you, you decided, it was enough. No matter what Steve said. You couldn’t fuck that up. “I, uh– I owe you an apology,” you said nervously, your fingers fidgeting on the counter top in front of you. You felt Ransom’s gaze snap to you, but he didn’t say anything so you continued. “I’m so sorry I kissed you. I never should have done that and it won’t happen again. I’m really sorry.”

You kept your gaze on your hands until the silence stretched on far longer than you were comfortable with. Nervously, you looked up, locking eyes with Ransom. His brow was furrowed. He looked upset. Was the apology not enough?

He stared at you for too long, like he was trying to find something in your expression, but you weren’t sure what. Then, finally, he asked, “What, exactly, are you apologizing for?” When your only response was to look at him in confusion—you thought you’d been clear—he rephrased. “Why are you sorry you kissed me?”

“Because–“ It felt like your breath was caught in your throat. The moment suddenly felt charged, for reasons you didn’t fully understand. “Because I know that’s not something you want and I–“

“I think,” he cut you off, voice low and so serious, “that you have no idea what I actually want.” And then, before you could parse what he meant, he surged forward, taking your face in both hands, and kissed you.

It took a moment for your brain to register what was happening, it was so far beyond anything you’d expected. But then you caught up, feeling his soft lips on yours, his hands gently cradling your head, the warmth of his body seeping into you. You let out a little gasp, finally understanding, feeling it for real, and he took it as invitation to deepen the kiss, his tongue tentatively entering your mouth. You sank into it, taking everything he was giving you. You’d never been kissed like this, never with such feeling. All you could do was ride its wave.

Far too soon, Ransom pulled away. But not far. He pressed his forehead to yours, his lips still so close, and whispered, “What I want is whatever you’re willing to give me. Not a single thing more, but not anything less, either. I want anything you might want.”

“Really?” you asked, your voice so small, overwhelmed. You could feel the tears starting to gather in your eyes, and you futilely tried to blink them away.

“Really,” he answered, and the certainty in his voice moved through you, as he brushed a tear off your face with his thumb. “I promise. Anything you want. Always.”

You took a deep breath. “I want to be a family with you,” you whispered. And with those words, you felt something inside of you, something that you hadn’t fully realized was undone, settle for the first time since you’d sat in Joseph’s office and been forced to sign that contract.

“Me too,” he whispered back. “Let’s be a family.”

And then he kissed you again. Like he meant it. And you believed him.

A/N 2: 😭😭😭 It only took eleven chapters but they finally did it, you guys!!!! I hope you love this as much as I do. Please let me know what you think!

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You forced yourself to let it go, gently setting it on the counter. “My mom called,” you conceded.

His hand immediately moved from Lola to your back, not moving. Just a steady presence there. “Everything okay?” he asked quietly.

You nodded again. “They’re—uh, she and Joseph—they’re coming here next week. Want to see us.”

“Oh. They aren’t going to stay with us, are they?” He sounded a little alarmed at the prospect, which made you smile.

“No, definitely not. Joseph will find the nicest suite in Boston, I’m sure.”

Ransom gave you a small smile. “A man after my own heart,” he joked.

You couldn’t quite join him. “Sure,” you shrugged.

His hand on your back became firmer. “Will it be nice,” he asked softly, “to see your mom?”

You took a deep breath. “Is it stupid if I say I miss her?” you asked quietly instead of answering him.

“No,” he said immediately. Firmly. “I can’t relate. But it’s definitely not stupid.”

You finally turned your body to him. “She’s really excited about the baby. That she gets to be a grandma.”

“That’s good,” he said, his hand on your back moving to your stomach, seemingly involuntarily. Like a magnet. That’s how it’d been for the last couple of weeks. Since you’d kissed. Since you’d talked. Otherwise, not much had changed in how he acted. Kisses when he left in the morning and usually when he got home. Or before he and you parted ways to go to your own bedrooms at night. He was taking things slowly. Presumably following your lead. But his hands. His hands always found you.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

“How long will they be here?”

“Really just a day, I think. They want to have dinner with us. And Joseph wants to set up at least eighteen holes with you.”

Ransom’s hand shrank back from you, a look of horror on his face. “He wants to golf?!”

You shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Why?”

“Because technically you’re his son-in-law. And I’m sure he’ll have some deal or something he’ll want to talk over with you too.”

He rolled his eyes. “I fucking hate golf.”

“That’s fine,” you shrugged. “He’ll expect to win anyway.”

He looked affronted at that. “I didn’t say I was bad at it! Just that it’s a stupid way to waste your time.”

You sighed. “Well, can you do it for one afternoon? Just to make my life easier?”

He gave you a considering look. “You hate him?” he asked.

“I do,” you said, very quietly.

“Alright,” he said with a decisive nod. “I’ll play a fucking round of golf. And I’ll demolish him.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that bloomed on your face. “Sure, Ransom,” you said fondly. You doubted it. Joseph golfed more than he worked. But the sentiment was really nice.

He took a step back into your space. The arm that wasn’t holding Lola wrapped around your waist. “You okay with them coming here? Really?”

And you knew, in that moment, that if you said “No,” he would figure out a way to keep them as far away from you as he could. Warmth bloomed in your chest. You still hadn’t gotten over the fact that he cared. “Yeah, I’m okay. It’ll be good to see my mom.”

“Okay,” he said, with a shockingly gentle kiss to your forehead. “Then I guess I can tolerate golf with Joseph for an afternoon.”

You woke up early the morning your mother was visiting. You had too much nervous energy to sleep. So you got up, took care of Lola, and started making breakfast for yourself and Ransom.

Your mom was going to come spend the day with you at the house, and then you’d go to the country club together to meet Joseph and Ransom for dinner after they were done golfing. Spending the entire day with her would be good. It would.

Ransom didn’t comment when he got up and found you already in the kitchen. He just kept you company as you cooked. He seemed to understand that you needed the silence filled, so he told you about what he expected his work day to include. A new author coming in, a probable fight with Walt, paperwork he’d been putting off. He didn’t make any mention of the time he’d be spending with Joseph this afternoon, and you were grateful. You were anxious enough already.

Too soon, you were both done with breakfast, and Ransom had gone back upstairs to finish getting ready. The doorbell sounded, and you took a deep breath before answering it.

Your mother stood on the front step, looking put together but maybe as nervous as you were. And frail. She looked very frail. She smiled at the sight of you, as big as she had ever managed. Despite all of the feelings that always swirled around inside of you when you thought of her, you smiled too. And then you threw your arms around her in a big hug.

You hugged her as tightly as you thought she could handle, as you breathed in the familiar floral notes of the perfume Joseph always got her for her birthday. And she hugged you back, her face pressed close.

“Oh honey, I’ve missed you so much,” she said softly.

“I’ve missed you too, Mom,” you replied. And you meant it. Eventually, you pulled away. “Did you have breakfast at your hotel? Can I make you something?” you asked as you ushered her into the house.

“Oh no, you don’t need to do that. We had a nice spread at the hotel. But if you wanted to share a pot of tea, I wouldn’t say n-“

The sound of footsteps hit the stairs, and your mom stopped talking immediately. You watched as her eyes tracked Ransom as he came down. Her body curled inward, just a bit, somehow making herself look even smaller than normal. “Ransom,” you called to him once he was in the room, wanting to break the strange tension that had suddenly filled the space. “You remember my mom, Lydia.”

Ransom stopped short, right next to you. A vague look of surprise on his face. He quickly schooled his expression into something much more neutral, and you made a mental note to ask him about it later. “Yes, of course,” he said, taking a step forward but stopping when she took a small step back. “It’s lovely to see you. I hope you got here alright.”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “Thank you.”

She didn’t say anything else. An uneasy silence settled over all three of you. You tried to catch your mom’s eye, see if she was okay, but she couldn't keep her wary gaze off of Ransom.

“Well,” Ransom finally spoke, as awkward as you’d ever heard him, “I should get going.” He turned to you, one hand immediately going to your bump. “You’re sure you’re going to be okay?” he asked, lowly, just for you.

You ducked your head with a shy smile at his care and nodded. His other hand came up to briefly caress your cheek as he gave you a small peck on the lips. Then he grabbed his work bag and headed out the door, calling out behind him, “I hope you have a good day together. I’ll see you both at dinner.”

As soon as the door closed behind him, you could feel your mom’s relief. You took a step towards her. “Mom, are you–“

“This is such a lovely home,” she said, stepping past you to look into the living room.

You blinked after her, trying to track what was happening. “Oh, um, thank you. We’re actually moving soon, though. Before the baby comes. We found a house we both really like.”

She looked at you, surprised. “He let you help decide?”

There was something about the question that made your heart crack, just a little. You weren’t sure yet who for. “Yeah, Mom. We discussed what we wanted. We’ll both be living there, after all.”

She opened her mouth to respond before she was distracted by Lola running into the room and jumping up onto the couch. “Oh!” your mom exclaimed. “I didn’t know you still had your little dog!”

You did your best to ignore the implication of that—that she’d assumed Ransom would make you give her up—and went to Lola to scratch behind her ears. “Of course, I do. Lola goes wherever I go, don’t you, baby?”

You looked up to find your mom staring at you, her expression tricky to read. There was relief there, first and foremost, but something else you couldn't quite decipher. After a very long pause, she said very quietly, “He must be very fond of you.”

All you could do was blink at her for a moment. Then, “Yes, I think so. I think– We’re fond of each other. We get along well.” It felt strange to talk about your relationship this way. It felt so new and– and delicate. And yours. You didn’t know how to talk about it with someone who hadn’t been there for the whole thing.

“He really isn’t so bad?” she asked with a hopeful tinge to her voice.

“No,” you said, “he’s not so bad at all. Now that I’ve gotten to know him.”

And at that, her body sagged. Like she’d finally released a breath she’d been holding for the last eight months. Her eyes were watery when she looked you in the eyes and said, her voice shaking a little, “That’s good. That’s so good.”

You took a step towards her and held out one hand. “Mom,” you asked, “are you alright?”

“Of course,” she said, too quickly, with a wobbly smile. “I’m just so happy to see you.”

“Yeah,” you said, but kept a careful eye on her. “Me too, Mom.”

You were able to busy yourself for a few minutes by preparing a few mugs of herbal tea for both of you before you settled on the couch in the living room with her.

Once you were seated, she put a hesitant hand on your stomach with a soft smile. “You’re glowing,” she said. “Is everything going well with the baby so far?”

“Yeah, I think so. The doctor doesn’t have any concerns right now. And they’ve started moving. It’s wild to think that there’s an actual person growing in there. I’m really looking forward to meeting them. And I think Ransom’s getting excited too.”

Her smile shifted a little. “Men are always excited to meet their sons.” And at that, you couldn’t help the way your smile dropped. Your mom noticed, of course. “Have you found out the baby’s sex yet?”

You turned away some as you shook your head. “No,” you said very quietly. “That appointment’s next week.”

“Do you have a feeling either way?” your mother asked urgently.

“No,” you lied. Of course, you had an inkling. One that had been growing stronger every day. But you hadn’t dared voice that feeling yet. It was too terrifying. “I have no idea. I just want them to be safe and healthy.”

“Sweetheart,” she placed a hand on yours, demanding your attention. “That– No, you can’t afford to think that way. You need to be prepared in case the worst happens.”

“The worst?” you asked, voice small, unable to look at her.

“There’s no greater heartbreak than having a daughter.”

You almost gasped, the words hitting you right in your chest, deep and sharp. You couldn’t help the way your hands came up to cradle your stomach, wanting to protect the person inside if you couldn't protect yourself. “Mom,” you whispered, torn apart.

“Honey, I love you so much. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. But– But men want sons. Especially for the first one. They need heirs. And you and your children won’t be truly safe until you give Ransom an heir. I’m sorry, but it’s true. You must remember what it was like when your father died without an heir.”

“I–“ you started, but came up short. Your earliest memories were all a blur. You remembered feelings. Fear of your father. And then panic after he died. But nothing specific.

“It was the scariest time of my life. Even scarier than when I first married him. Because he died without an heir, because I hadn’t given him one, everything reverted back to his family. And my family wouldn’t take us back. You and I, we had nothing. Honey, I didn’t know where we were going to sleep or how I was going to feed you. I was so terrified. If I’d had a son, none of that would have happened. And I tried, after you were born, I tried so hard to give your father what he wanted. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t give him another child, a son, so when he died, I had to do everything I could to find someone else to take care of us. We’re so lucky that Joseph was willing to take us in, that he already had an heir, and that he didn’t need that from me. He saved us.

“I don’t want any of that for you. Ransom is fond of you. That’s good. He’ll forgive you if this baby isn’t a boy. But if it isn’t, you need to try to have a son again as soon as you can. You can’t hesitate. You never know what might happen.”

“Mom, please–“

She gripped your hands tightly, “I know this is difficult to hear, but you need to listen to me. This is so important. I don’t want you to go through what I went through. I want a better life for you. Do you understand?”

You swallowed harshly. She was looking at you with such desperation that for a long moment all you could do was nod. You believed Ransom when he said he cared about you, cared about this baby. But you’d also seen previously doting husbands turn cold when their hope of an heir, their legacy, came unfulfilled. As painful as it was, your mother was right. You couldn’t afford to ignore everything that was at stake here.

“Yes, Mom,” you finally answered, voice rough. “I understand.”

She exhaled in relief as her grip on your hands lessened but didn’t disappear. “Honey, even though you weren’t the heir your father wanted, I was so happy when I finally got to meet you. I didn’t have to be alone anymore. You’ve always been the greatest joy of my life. And no matter what happens, this baby will be that for you too. You’re going to be such a wonderful mother. I just know it.”

You blinked back the tears threatening to spill over your lashes. Your heart was breaking for numerous reasons you couldn’t even name. You moved one hand from her grasp and used it to gently cradle your stomach. “I hope so,” you said, too quietly. “I want to be good for them.”

“You will be,” she said, with one final, loving pat to your hand. Then she reached for her tea and began to ask you about your new house. And you tried to pretend like everything was fine.

You got to the restaurant at the country club feeling raw and anxious. You’d wanted to enjoy your day with your mom, but her words from this morning were hanging over your head.

Ransom and Joseph were already at the table. Ransom with a shit-eating grin on his face while Joseph looked thunderous. Ransom stood to greet you as soon as you were at the table, with a gentle kiss on your cheek. With a wary eye towards Joseph, you asked, “How was the golf?”

Ransom’s grin got even bigger. “I think it went pretty well!” he said, surprisingly brightly, loud enough for the whole table to hear. “Especially for my very first time. I won by three strokes!”

“Goddamn beginner’s luck,” Joseph grumbled under his breath from his side of the table, where your mom was already sitting stiffly next to him. He barely acknowledged her.

You looked back at Ransom, slightly confused. Just last week he’d told you he was an experienced golfer. At his subtle wink, you had to work hard to stifle your laughter. You couldn’t think of anything that would piss off Joseph more than being beaten by a supposed beginner.

“How was your day together?” Ransom asked as he pulled out your chair for you.

“It was nice,” you said. And parts of it were. The little girl inside you would always be happy to see your mom. Even if every flinch, every sigh, every piece of advice felt like a dire warning for the life you could have, the person you could become if you weren’t very, very careful. You smiled over at her, and she smiled back, even if it was a little fragile.

Joseph rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Lydia’s been very excited to see you. Hopefully she got all that chattering out of her system.”

And just like that, your mom shrank back down, like she was trying to take up as little space at this table as possible. Joseph saved us. Your mother’s words from that morning echoed in your head. Had the cost been worth it? Had any of this ever been worth it?

Ransom leaned forward. “She’s been really looking forward to your visit, too.” He said to your mother, sincerely. “I hope it was a really good day.”

She looked up at him briefly before looking away again. “Yes, it was,” she said very softly. “Thank you.”

You reached under the table and grabbed Ransom’s hand. He didn’t react, but he gave your fingers a reassuring squeeze.

Joseph spent most of the dinner only talking to Ransom, which was honestly fine with you. You tried to engage your mom in conversation on your end of the table, but now that the two of you were no longer alone, she didn’t have much to say. Her eyes kept darting nervously to where the men were talking.

You didn’t catch what prompted it, but your attention was caught when Joseph laughed, “You’ll feel differently once your own son is born in a few months!”

Your son your son your son

But this baby isn’t a boy something inside you responded with a certainty you could not have. There was no way to know that. There was no reason to be so sure.

You were too busy spiraling to catch if and how Ransom responded. But then Joseph turned to you and captured all of your attention. “And look at you, Sweetheart,” he said, his tone slick and smug and awful, “you’re glowing. Don’t you feel silly for the scene you made that night? I told you it was just cold feet.”

Your heart lurched at his words. You didn’t have to pause to try to remember what he was talking about. That awful night when you’d gone to the man who’d raised you since you were six years old and begged him to have a shred of humanity and not all but sell you to a stranger. The night your step-father had laughed at you and patronized you and turned you away. The night your entire world had come crashing down and this man who was supposed to be your family hadn’t cared.

You knew you should say something. You knew you should stand up for yourself, but all you could do was choke on the words as you felt yourself going back in time. As you remembered how completely terrified you’d been.

Ransom went completely still next to you, still holding your hand under the table. “Cold feet?” he asked, his head tilting dangerously. “What are you talking about?”

Joseph seemed to be the only one who hadn’t noticed how tense the atmosphere had gotten. He chuckled. “Oh, she came to me after your first dinner. Fussing about the pregnancy clause. She begged me not to make her go through with the arrangement.” He rolled his eyes. “I told her she was being ridiculous, of course. That there was a lot more riding on this than some silly girl’s nerves over being a mother. And look at her now! I was right. Everything worked out fine.”

Ransom got very, very quiet. The only part of him that moved was a muscle in his jaw that ticked angrily. You squeezed his hand under the table, unsure of what he was going to do. And equally unsure if you wanted to stop him or not.

But before anyone else could say anything, your mom rushed in, her voice panicked and urgent, even as she tried to keep her tone light. “Oh, no, but– But she didn’t mean anything by it! All girls get nervous! It’s normal! It wasn’t anything against you! She just– She– She–“

“My god, Lydia,” Joseph interrupted. “What are you babbling about?”

Your mom went silent, but her eyes stayed on Ransom, desperate, pleading.

You felt Ransom take a deep breath and force his body to relax. He leaned across the table to your mom and said, voice calm and reassuring. “I would never be upset with her for being scared. I promise.” But as he turned from her to Joseph, you watched his face turn to stone. “But I can’t imagine ever turning away my own child if they were that scared of something.”

“It isn’t like she’s my actual child,” Joseph scoffed. “And she was overreacting, being dramatic. Everything turned out fine!”

Ransom’s eyes narrowed as he hummed in thought. “You think you’d be a little more grateful to her, considering the fact that you’ve been trying to get the rights to Harlan’s works for decades without any luck. The only thing that made the deal go through this time was the fact that her addition finally made the pot sweet enough. So it might be a good idea to remember, if I were you, that the one thing holding together the only significant rights deal your flagging studio has had in years is the woman sitting next to me. Just a thought.” And then, just like that, he went back to eating his steak, like nothing had happened. But the hand holding yours shifted so that he could thread your fingers together.

You were quiet on the car ride home. Saying goodbye to your mom had been difficult, even as much as you were ready for your life to go back to normal, whatever that might be. She’d hugged you so tight. You hadn’t wanted to let go.

You were leaning your head against the window, watching the world go by in the dark, when Ransom cleared his throat. “And I thought Linda was a piece of work.” His attempt at humor hung in the air awkwardly. You didn’t say anything or turn to look at him. You were too tired.

“Sorry,” he said after another few long, silent moments. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you said into the window. “I’m fine.” You knew he hated that word, but you didn’t know what else to say.

It was quiet as Ransom merged onto the highway, and then he tried again. “How old was your mom when she had you?”

That finally got you to turn your head. “What?”

He glanced over at you before returning his eyes to the road. “She was a lot younger than I expected.”

You gave him a confused look. “You met her before, didn’t you? At the wedding.”

He sighed and looked at you again. “That was a hard day. There was a lot that never really registered,” he answered, somewhat sheepishly. “And so today, I was surprised. I expected someone older.”

You hummed thoughtfully. “She was twenty with me.”

“Shit,” he mumbled to himself. “And your dad?” he asked, like he didn’t really want to know the answer.

You shrugged, shrinking in on yourself, just a bit. “I don’t know. I was really little, and– I don’t know. Old enough to have a heart attack, I guess.”

“Jesus Christ,” Ransom muttered to himself again.

He didn’t say anything else, but you were finally ready to talk. You had too many words swirling around in your head to be able to stop them from tumbling out of your mouth. “She was really afraid of you. Did you notice that?” You didn’t wait for him to respond. “Really scared. At first, I thought it was so weird. She doesn’t really know you, why would– And then I wondered if maybe she was just afraid of all men. Given her track record– But tonight, during dinner, it clicked. She’s afraid of you because if you got upset about anything, you could take it out on me. That’s what had her terrified. And then I realized, all the advice and the ‘just keep him happy’ and the letting me learn how to cook and how to dance and, and– She thinks she’s protecting me. And she is. I guess. In the only way she knows how. And I want to be grateful for it. I– I do. I am. Maybe. But, god, she still handed me the pen!”

“What pen?” Ransom asked, and you suddenly realized that you weren’t just exorcising your turbulent thoughts into the ether but having a real conversation. With your husband.

You swallowed hard, trying to will yourself to stay in the present instead of hurtling back in time to that awful day that started everything. “When they first showed me the contract for our marriage. When they made me sign it. She’s the one who handed me the pen. And I don’t know what to do with that.”

Ransom didn’t say anything. He didn’t even take his eyes off the road. But he took his right hand off the steering wheel and extended it over the gear shaft to cover both of your hands in your lap. And he maybe didn’t know what to say, but this– It was enough.

A week later, you could tell Ransom was concerned as you walked into the clinic together. You knew why. You’d been quiet all day. Nauseous. Today was the day it could all fall apart.

“Are you feeling alright?” he asked as you sat in the waiting room.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said quietly.

That just seemed to worry him more. “Are you sure? Did you eat today?”

“Yes, Ransom, I did,” you lied. “I said I was fine.”

“Is it the baby? They’re healthy, I’m sure. It’s going to be alright.”

You almost laughed in his face. This appointment was not going to be all right. That, you knew for certain. Instead, you just said, “Yes, I know, Ransom,” unable to keep the irritation out of your tone.

He didn’t say anything else, but you could feel him watching you until your name was finally called.

The appointment was going fine. The baby was healthy, a good size. Everything looked the way it was supposed to. You wished you could take comfort in that.

Ransom was staring at the screen of the ultrasound. “Wow,” he said, his voice full of awe and a soft smile on his face. “They’re starting to look like an actual baby.” He looked to you, to share in it, and you found it easier than you expected to smile back. He was so happy. You had to savor it. Especially since you were so scared that he’d no longer be looking at you like that in just a few minutes.

Sooner than you were ready for, Dr. Patel said the words you’d been dreading. “So,” she asked with a grin, “are we learning the sex of the baby today?”

Ransom’s smile got even bigger, eager. “Yea–“

“No!” You interrupted, too loud, too fast. This hadn’t been your plan, but the panic had overtaken you, and you were operating purely on instinct now. “No, we don’t want to find out!”

“What?” Ransom’s shock may have gotten to you if your heartbeat wasn’t so loud in your ears.

“We don’t want to find out,” you repeated, urgently, shaking your head too hard.

He was staring at you. They both were. But you couldn’t do anything about it. You were too busy trying to remember how to breathe.

That got a little easier when your husband finally turned his attention away from you. “Could you give us a minute?”

“Of course,” she said with a tight smile. Then everyone but you and Ransom left the room.

At first, Ransom didn’t say anything. He just held your hand, his thumb sweeping across it in soothing arcs. After a few minutes, his voice impossibly soft, he started a steady tide of comforting murmurs. “Hey, it’s okay, honey. You’re alright. You’re safe. Everything’s okay. Just breathe with me, honey. I’m right here with you. You’re okay.”

You closed your eyes, letting yourself be comforted by it, even if you knew it couldn’t last. After several minutes of that, you’d calmed down enough for him to attempt a real conversation. “I guess we probably should have talked about it first,” he said, keeping that same impossibly soft tone, “but I assumed you’d be excited to find out. I’m really excited to find out.”

At that, you tried to close your eyes even tighter, tears leaking out from the force of it, falling down your cheeks.

His thumb paused, for just a beat, then continued to sweep across your skin. “Honey. Please look at me. It’s okay, I promise. I just want you to look at me.” It took all the strength in you, but after a long moment, you forced your eyes open and finally looked at Ransom. His expression was terribly worried, but he let out a small breath in relief once he could see your eyes. “Okay, can you tell me why that was the wrong thing to say?”

This was the last conversation you wanted to have, but you knew you had no choice, so you powered through as best you could. “You’re excited to find out this baby’s your heir. That’s what you’re excited for.”

“What?” The worry on his face was replaced with sheer confusion. “Honey, I don’t give a shit if this baby’s my heir.”

“Yes, you do,” you countered, voice firm. “You might not know that you do, but you do. All men do, whether you realize it or not.” He opened his mouth to reply, but you kept going before he was able to get any words out. “And I’m not upset with you for that. I’m not. I understand. And I’m not afraid you’ll do something to me if they aren’t the boy you want. I know you won’t. I trust you. I know you’ll even still try to love this baby, but… I just– I just can’t see the disappointment on your face when you find out. I just can’t. I think it will break my heart completely, and I– Maybe it’ll be better if you find out when they’re born. Maybe it’ll be harder to be disappointed when there’s a real baby in your arms instead of just the idea of one. Maybe it won’t. Maybe you’ll still be upset. But I just can’t see your disappointment today. I’m sorry. I just can’t.”

Ransom was very quiet for a long time. You didn’t say anything either. You didn’t have anything else to say. You just stared at his hand, still holding yours. Finally, he spoke, his voice surprisingly rough. “You know, there’s a lot I’ve been thinking about lately. A lot of things I’m really worried about. One of the biggest ones is the idea of a little me running around. I was a pretty terrible kid. An awful teenager. A shit twenty-something. I think of a son, and I think of all of the mistakes I’ve ever made. I worry that he won’t be able to escape them. But you know what doesn’t worry me? The thought of a little you. Beautiful. Kind. Funny. Unbelievably brave. That’s who I see when I close my eyes and imagine our child.” He paused, thoughtful, and squeezed your hand. “Either way, the thing I most want for this baby is that they have all the best parts of you and none of the worst parts of me. That’s what’s most important to me. I don’t give a shit about the rest of it.”

You felt another wave of tears fall down your face. Later, maybe you’d be able to tell him all the ways you hoped your child was just like him, all the things of his that you wanted them to inherit, but for now, all you could say was, “You mean it?”

“Yes,” he said, so solemnly, looking you dead in the eyes. “I mean it.”

You took a deep breath. “Okay,” you whispered, not able to get any louder.

“Yeah? Okay? Should we let Dr Patel back in? Are you ready to find out?”

You took another deep breath. And then another. And then you nodded. At least now you would know for sure. Either way.

The doctor and the tech came back in. More gel was squeezed onto your stomach. The baby’s placement was found again. The wand maneuvered around. And then, with a careful smile, a little wary of the news she was about to deliver, Dr. Patel said, “Congratulations. You’re having a girl.”

Your breath stopped again, and your eyes flew to Ransom. He was staring at you. A wide smile on his face. His eyes were glassy with unshed tears. “It’s okay?” you asked, voice shaking.

“It’s incredible,” he beamed, placing a happy kiss against your forehead. “It’s absolutely incredible.”

Exhaling a breath you felt like you’d been holding for weeks, you finally let yourself let go of some of your worry, just for now, and feel the same joy he felt. You smiled back at him. It was incredible. You were having a girl.

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