Chapter 130 Heartbeat
Chapter 130 Heartbeat
Chapter Thirty-One
Cade
Monday morning arrives faster than I want it to.
I spend most of Sunday pretending I haven’t agreed to let Charlie come with me.
It isn’t that I regret asking.
It’s that now it’s real.
The appointment sits on my calendar like an accusation.
9:30 A.M. – First Prenatal Appointment
Every time I look at it, my stomach twists.
Partly from the pregnancy.
Mostly from nerves.
I stand in front of my closet longer than necessary before eventually settling on a soft cream sweater and a pair of dark jeans. Comfortable. Ordinary. Nothing that announces my entire world has changed.
Downstairs, Jordan is already eating cereal.
He looks up when I enter.
“Morning.”
“Morning.”
He studies me for a second before pushing the milk toward me.
“You actually eating breakfast today?”
“I’ll try.”
“You’ve got the doctor this morning, right?”
I nod.
“Yeah.”
Jordan hesitates.
“You nervous?”
I let out a quiet laugh.
“What gave it away?”
“The fact that you’ve checked your watch six times in the last three minutes.”
I glance at my wrist.
“…Have I?”
He grins.
“Yep.”
I sigh.
“I’m just…”
The words refuse to come.
Jordan softens.
“I know.”
He stands and walks over, wrapping one arm around my shoulders in a quick hug.
“I’m glad you’re going.”
“So am I.”
“And…”
He scratches the back of his neck.
“I’m glad Charlie’s going with you.”
I blink.
“You are?”
Jordan shrugs.
“You shouldn’t have to do this alone.”
Emotion catches unexpectedly in my throat.
“I wasn’t alone the first time either.”
Jordan looks at me with an expression so gentle it hurts.
“I know.”
The silence that follows says everything neither of us can.
You were abandoned anyway.
I reach up and squeeze his hand.
“Thank you.”
He smiles.
“You’ll text me after?”
“I promise.”
“And tell Charlie not to let you leave without asking questions.”
I huff a laugh.
“I think he’ll manage that without instructions.”
“Probably.”
\---
Charlie’s truck is already parked outside when I step onto the porch.
He’s leaning against the driver’s side door with both hands tucked into his coat pockets.
The moment he sees me, he straightens.
For a second, neither of us moves.
Then he smiles.
Not the teasing grin I’m used to.
Just…
Warm.
“Morning.”
“Morning.”
He looks me over carefully.
“You okay?”
“No.”
The honesty surprises us both.
Charlie nods once.
“Okay.”
That’s all.
No attempt to fix it.
No false reassurance.
He simply opens the passenger door.
“I’ve got you.”
Three words.
Simple.
Steady.
They settle somewhere deep inside me.
The drive is quiet.
Not uncomfortable.
Just…
Careful.
Charlie keeps one hand on the steering wheel while the other rests loosely near the gearshift.
Soft music plays through the speakers.
Outside, winter still clings stubbornly to the world.
Snow lines the sidewalks in gray-white piles.
Bare branches scrape across an overcast sky.
Charlie glances over at a stoplight.
“You can tell me to shut up if you want.”
“I don’t want you to shut up.”
“You’ve been quiet.”
“I’m thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
I roll my eyes.
“There he is.”
“There who is?”
“The guy who makes bad jokes when he’s nervous.”
He smiles sheepishly.
“I figured one of us should.”
“I’m nervous enough for both of us.”
His smile fades.
“I know.”
Another red light.
Charlie drums his fingers once against the steering wheel.
“I’ve never done this before.”
I look at him.
“A prenatal appointment?”
“Yeah.”
“I haven’t exactly made a habit of it.”
Despite myself, I smile.
“I wasn’t sure if I should be excited.”
“Or scared.”
“Or both.”
“So I settled on both.”
I look down at my hands folded in my lap.
“I’m scared too.”
“I know.”
“You don’t know.”
He reaches over.
Doesn’t grab my hand.
Doesn’t assume.
He just lays his palm on the center console between us.
Close enough.
An invitation.
I look at it for several seconds before placing my hand over his.
Our fingers intertwine naturally.
The familiar warmth of the bond hums beneath my skin.
Charlie squeezes gently.
“We’ll figure it out.”
The waiting room is brighter than I expect.
Soft green walls.
Framed photographs of smiling families.
Shelves filled with parenting magazines.
A small play area in the corner.
My heart pounds so hard I’m convinced everyone can hear it.
Charlie checks us in while I sink into one of the chairs.
He returns a minute later.
“They said the doctor is running about ten minutes behind.”
I nod.
He sits beside me.
Neither of us reaches for the magazines.
A little girl toddles past holding her father’s finger.
She can’t be more than three.
She looks up at Charlie.
He smiles automatically.
She smiles back.
Then continues walking.
I watch him.
"You like kids."
Charlie follows my gaze toward the little girl as she waddles after her father, her tiny boots squeaking against the polished floor.
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
"Yeah."
He chuckles softly.
"My siblings are quite a few years younger than me, so I got to enjoy them as babies and toddlers before they got older and became little menaces."
I laugh quietly.
"Little menaces?"
"You haven't met Luca when he's had too much sugar."
"I don't think I want to."
"Smart choice." He grins before the expression softens again. "I used to love helping Mom with them. Bottle feedings, bedtime stories, chasing them around the backyard... all of it."
His eyes drift back toward the little girl across the waiting room.
"I always thought someday I'd have kids of my own."
His smile turns almost shy.
"I just never imagined it'd happen like this."
"Like what?"
He turns toward me.
"With you."
Heat creeps into my cheeks.
"I imagined a lot of things growing up."
He laughs quietly.
"But somehow, my best friend's dad becoming the love of my life never made the list."
Heat rises into my cheeks.
Charlie notices.
“What?”
“You make saying ridiculous things sound believable.”
“They’re believable because they’re true.”
Before I can respond, a nurse appears.
“Cade Logan?”
I stand too quickly.
Charlie’s hand settles lightly against my back.
Not guiding.
Steadying.
“You can both come back,” the nurse says with a smile.
The words make something inside me loosen.
Both.
Vitals.
Blood pressure.
Weight.
Questions about symptoms.
The nurse types steadily while I answer.
Morning sickness.
Food aversions.
Fatigue.
Charlie listens carefully, his brow furrowing every time I mention something I apparently forgot to tell him.
The nurse leaves.
The room falls quiet.
Charlie looks at me. “You’ve been throwing up every morning?”
“…Mostly.”
“Cade.”
“I didn’t want you worrying.”
“I was already worrying.”
I look away. “I know.”
A knock interrupts us.
The obstetrician enters with an easy smile.
She introduces herself as Dr. Rivers, reviews my chart, asks a few more questions, then wheels over the ultrasound machine.
“Since this is your first visit,” she says, “we’ll take a look and make sure everything is progressing normally.”
Normal.
I cling to that word.
She dims the lights.
The room grows quiet.
Charlie shifts closer in his chair.
“Ready?” the doctor asks.
“No.”
She laughs gently.
“Most people aren’t.”
The cool gel makes me flinch.
Then the probe touches my abdomen.
The monitor flickers.
Gray shadows.
Blurry shapes.
Nothing I can understand.
The doctor studies the screen.
Clicks a few buttons.
Adjusts the angle.
Then…
“There we are.”
She points. “See that?”
I squint. “I…”
Charlie leans forward. “I don’t…”
Then I see it.
A tiny shape.
Impossible to recognize as a person.
And yet…
My breath catches.
The doctor smiles. “Everything looks exactly as I’d hope.”
I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until she presses another button.
The room fills with a rapid, rhythmic sound.
Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump.
Fast.
Strong.
Alive.
I freeze.
Charlie freezes.
The heartbeat continues filling the room.
My eyes burn instantly. “Oh.”
The word barely exists.
Charlie’s fingers tighten around mine.
I turn toward him.
Tears are already sliding down his cheeks.
He isn’t trying to hide them.
He stares at the screen as if the world has narrowed to one tiny heartbeat.
“That’s…”
His voice breaks. “Our baby.”
I lose the battle against my own tears.
The doctor quietly continues taking measurements, giving us the space to absorb the moment.
Neither of us speaks.
There isn’t anything big enough.
The heartbeat echoes through the room.
Again.
Again.
Again.
A promise.
Proof.
Hope made audible.
Charlie laughs through his tears. “I wasn’t supposed to cry first.”
I sniffle. “Apparently you were.”
“I’ve cried at commercials.”
“That doesn’t count.”
“It absolutely counts.”
I laugh.
The sound shakes.
The doctor hands me a tissue.
Then another to Charlie.
“I’ve been doing this a long time,” she says softly. “It never gets old.”
By the time the appointment ends, we’ve left with a folder of information, several follow-up appointments, and a printed ultrasound picture tucked carefully into an envelope.
Charlie refuses to let me carry the folder.
“I can carry paper.”
“I know.”
“You don’t have to treat me like I’m fragile.”
“I don’t.”
He pauses. “I’m treating you like you’re precious.”
The words stop me cold.
He says them so matter-of-factly.
As though there’s a difference.
Maybe there is.
Outside, snow drifts lazily from a pale gray sky.
Neither of us heads for the truck immediately.
Instead we stand beside it in the cold.
Charlie pulls the ultrasound picture out one more time.
We both stare.
“I still can’t believe that’s him,” Charlie whispers.
I smile.
“We don’t actually know it’s a him.”
“I know.”
“But…”
He shrugs. “It feels weird calling the baby ‘it.’”
I laugh softly. “Our baby.”
He nods. “Our baby.”
The words settle over us.
Not frightening anymore.
Not impossible.
Simply…
True.
Charlie slips the picture carefully back into its envelope before looking at me.
“You okay?”
I think about the heartbeat.
About Jordan hugging me that morning.
About Charlie crying before I did.
About the tiny life neither of us had planned, but both of us already love.
I step closer.
Close enough that our coats brush.
Then, without overthinking it, I rest my forehead against his shoulder.
His arms come around me immediately.
Gentle.
Patient.
Safe.
For the first time since those three positive tests, my fear isn’t the loudest thing inside me.
Hope is.
Small.
Fragile.
But growing.
Just like the tiny heartbeat we’d heard only minutes ago.
I close my eyes. “Charlie?”
“Hm?”
I smile against his coat. “That’s our baby.”
His arms tighten just enough for me to feel it. “I know.”
His voice is thick with emotion. “I’ve never been so happy to hear a heartbeat in my life.”