Chapter 17 Chapter Seventeen
Kane's pov~
I had always considered myself a patient man.
That was before Miss Pregnancy Hormones entered my life.
Four months. Four goddamn months of Nina being pregnant, and I was convinced that no military training, no high-stakes business deal, and no extreme sport could have prepared me for this. I had survived shark dives, hostile takeovers, and even that one time he got stranded in the Alps for three days. But this? This was a whole new level of endurance.
I had been spoiling Nina rotten—3 AM foot rubs, emergency ice cream dashes, even hand-feeding her grapes like some kind of Roman emperor’s pampered concubine (which, honestly, I loved). And I’d do it all again because she was carrying my child—our tiny human, who’d hopefully inherit my calm demeanor and not their mother’s ability to sob over a toilet paper commercial.
But nobody—and I meant nobody—had warned me about the mood swings.
One evening, she had laughed so hard at a cat video that she snorted her juice out of her nose. Five minutes later, she was weeping because "the cat looked lonely." Another time, she had thrown a pillow at my head because I "breathed too loud" while she was trying to sleep. And just last week, she had nearly kicked me out on the spot when I accidentally ate the last pickle that she’d been saving.
I was exhausted. But also weirdly… happy.
Today was Ultrasound Day. The day we'd find out if we were having a little Kane Jr. or a tiny Nina. I was vibrating with excitement, already mentally designing a mini football jersey or a princess castle, depending on the verdict.
But first, I had to get Nina out the door.
Which was proving to be a challenge.
Because right now, she was sitting on the kitchen floor, cradling a broken egg like it was a fallen comrade in battle. Tears streamed down her face in a dramatic, slow-motion waterfall of despair.
I froze in the doorway.
Oh no.
Not again.
I approached cautiously like one would a startled deer. "Nina? Baby? What’s wrong?"
She looked up at me with the devastation of a woman who had just lost everything. "I… I broke it."
I stared at the egg. Just a regular, now-smashed egg. No gold inside. No secret treasure. Just yolk on the tiles.
I exhaled. "Sweetheart, it’s just an egg. I’ll buy you more. I’ll buy you a farm of eggs."
She shook her head, her lower lip trembling. "You don’t understand." A fresh sob escaped. "That was my egg. My favorite egg."
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
Favorite egg?!
Did it have a name? A personality? Did it tell her jokes when I wasn’t looking?
I pinched the bridge of my nose, counting to five in my head. Then, with the patience of a saint who had been tested far beyond his limits, I crouched down beside her.
"Okay," I said slowly. "Tell me about this egg. What made it so special?"
Nina sniffled. "It was… perfectly oval."
I blinked.
"And the shell was… smooth, almost like butter."
Another blink.
"And now it’s gone." She dissolved into fresh tears.
My few weeks of experience had gotten me prepared for scenarios like this so I had two options here:
1) Laugh. (A death sentence, fully known as instant death)
2) Commit fully to the Egg Grief Counseling session.
And I chose survival.
Gently, I pulled her into my arms. "I’m so sorry for your loss," I said solemnly, almost cringing at my own words. "We will honor its memory."
Nina buried her face in my chest. "Promise?"
"I promise. We’ll even get a picture frame. In Loving Memory of The Best Egg."
She hiccuped a laugh against me, and I considered this a victory.
Then she pulled back, eyes wide. "Oh my God."
Kane tensed. What now?
"The ultrasound!" she gasped. "We’re going to be late!"
Ah, yes. The reason we were supposed to leave twenty minutes ago.
I helped her up, brushing eggshell confetti off her dress. "You good now? Ready to go find out if we’re having a future NFL star or a future Oscar winner?"
Nina nodded, wiping her eyes. Then she paused. "Wait. What if it’s twins?"
My soul briefly left my body.
\---
Later, in the Ultrasound Room
The technician squinted at the screen. "Well, congratulations! It’s a—"
Nina suddenly grabbed my arm in a death grip. "What if the baby doesn’t like me?"
I sighed.
Four more months to go.
The technician’s wand hovered over Nina’s belly like a magic wand about to reveal our future. I squeezed her hand, half-expecting the screen to show a tiny negotiator already demanding a raise.
"Congratulations," the tech said, smiling. "It’s a—"
The screen lit up with...
Nina’s nails dug into my palm as she turned back to the tech. "Is it judging me? Why is it facing away? Oh God, it hates me already."
The tech—a woman named Linda who’d clearly done this dance before—adjusted the monitor. "Baby’s just camera-shy. See? There’s the heartbeat. Strong as a drum."
A whoosh-whoosh filled the room.
I stared at the blurry screen. Was that a… foot? A fist? A middle finger? Impossible to tell. But my throat went tight anyway.
Linda chuckled. "Want to know the gender?"
"YES!" I barked, then flinched as Nina elbowed me. "I mean… whatever you want, honey."
Nina chewed her lip. "What if you're disappointed? Men like boy child, what if it is a girl?"
"Disappointed?" I gaped at her. "Babe, at this point, if the tech says it’s a kitten, I’m buying a litter box and calling it Princess Fluffy."
I'm questioning my sanity at this point.
Linda coughed to hide a laugh. "It’s a boy."
Silence.
Then—
"A BOY!" Nina fist-pumped so hard that she nearly knocked over the ultrasound machine. A soft smile formed on my face as I wiped away a stray tear that slid down her cheeks. We stared at the little, still-developing form on the screen.
“Our baby” Nina smiled back with tears in her eyes.