80

Sierra's POV

The first trimester hit me like a truck. A big, smelly, nausea-filled truck.

I forgot how awful this part was. With Katie, I was young. Twenty-seven. I bounced back from everything. This time? Forty-two felt very, very old.

The smell thing got worse. Coffee was enemy number one. But then it was also eggs. Then chicken cooking. Then Louis's cologne. Then the cleaning stuff the housekeeper used. Then the garbage can in the kitchen. Then flowers. Flowers!

"I can't smell anything," I moaned, lying on the bathroom floor at 3 a.m. "Everything smells like everything."

Louis sat beside me, looking helpless. Men always look helpless when their wives are puking. It's kind of funny, if you're not the one puking.

"Do you want water?" he asked.

"No."

"Tea?"

"NO."

"A cracker?"

"Louis, if you say one more word, I will divorce you."

He shut up. Smart man.

---

The tiredness was worse than the puking.

With Katie, I worked through my pregnancy. I was busy. I had energy.

Now? I couldn't keep my eyes open past 7 p.m. I fell asleep during a movie. I fell asleep on the couch while Katie was telling me about her day. I fell asleep standing up in the kitchen waiting for the microwave.

"You're like a zombie," Katie observed. "A pregnant zombie."

"Thanks, sweetie. That's very supportive."

"I'm just saying. You should lean into it. Wear gray makeup. Moan a lot."

"I will moan when I'm dead."

"That's the spirit."

Teenagers. They're monsters. Cute monsters, but monsters.

---

Louis was adorable through all of it.

He brought me crackers at 2 a.m. He learned to make ginger tea. He read pregnancy books—actual books—and came to me with facts.

"Did you know the baby can hear now? At eighteen weeks, they can hear your voice."

"That's nice, Louis."

"So you should talk to it. To her. Or him."

"I talk to it every time I puke. 'Sorry, baby. That was your mom's breakfast. Hope you didn't want it.'"

He winced. "Maybe more positive talk?"

"You talk to it."

So he did. Every night, he'd put his face near my belly and talk.

"Hey in there. It's Dad. Today I had a boring meeting about mergers. You don't know what that means yet, but you will. Your mom threw up three times. She's a trooper. Your sister got an A on her history test. She's showing off already. We can't wait to meet you. But take your time. Grow strong. We'll be here."

I'd lie there, listening, crying. Hormones.

---

The ultrasound was at twenty weeks.

We'd decided not to find out the gender with Katie. We wanted a surprise. This time, we wanted to know. We needed to know. After everything, we needed to be ready.

Katie came with us. She was weirdly excited about it. I think the reality was finally hitting her. A real baby. Coming soon.

The ultrasound room was dark and warm. The technician, a cheerful lady named Diane, put the cold gel on my belly.

"This might be a little uncomfortable," she said.

Everything was uncomfortable at twenty weeks. I was used to it.

Then the picture came on the screen. And I forgot about being uncomfortable.

There it was. A baby. Not a blob anymore. A real baby with arms and legs and a head and a beating heart.

"Wow," Katie breathed.

"Look at that," Louis said softly. His voice was thick.

The baby moved. Waved a tiny hand. Kicked a tiny foot.

"Oh my God," I whispered. "That's in me. That's inside me."

"Still weird?" Katie asked.

"So weird. So amazing."

Diane moved the wand around, clicking buttons, measuring things. "Everything looks perfect. Healthy size, good heartbeat, all the right parts."

"Can you tell what it is?" Louis asked. "The gender?"

"Give me a second." She moved the wand more. "There we go. See that?"

We all squinted at the screen. I had no idea what I was looking at.

"Is that..." Louis started.

"That's a boy," Diane said, smiling. "You're having a son."

A son.

A boy.

After Katie, after all these years, a son.

I started crying. Katie started crying. Louis just stared at the screen like he'd seen a ghost.

"A boy," he repeated.

"A little Louis junior," Katie said through her tears. "Oh no, two of you. The world isn't ready."

"Katherine."

"Sorry, sorry. I'm happy. I'm so happy."

Louis leaned down and kissed my forehead. "A son," he whispered. "We're having a son."

"I know," I whispered back. "Can you believe it?"

"No. Never."

---

We went out for ice cream after. Even though it was cold outside. Even though I was supposed to watch my sugar. I didn't care. I was celebrating.

Katie got a giant sundae with everything on it. Louis got plain vanilla—boring man. I got strawberry, which I'd been craving for weeks.

"A brother," Katie said, shaking her head. "I'm going to have a brother. That's so weird."

"Why weird?"

"Because I've been an only child for fifteen years. I don't know how to be a sister. Especially not to a boy."

"You'll figure it out."

"What if he's annoying?"

"He'll be annoying. All little brothers are annoying."

"What if he's cute and everyone pays attention to him and forgets about me?"

I reached across the table and took her hand. "No one could forget about you, Katie. You're unforgettable. And you're going to be the best big sister ever. He's going to look up to you so much."

She sniffled. "Promise?"

"Promise."

Louis watched us, his eyes soft. He reached over and put his hand on top of ours.

"Our family," he said. "Growing."

"Growing," I agreed.

---

That night, after Katie went to bed, Louis and I sat in the nursery.

The room that used to be an office. The room we were slowly turning into a baby's room. Pale blue walls. A crib in the corner. A rocking chair by the window.

"It's real now," Louis said. "Knowing it's a boy. It's real."

"Scared?"

"Terrified. You?"

"The same."

He pulled me onto his lap in the rocking chair. We sat there, rocking slowly, looking at the empty crib.

"What do we know about raising boys?" he asked.

"Nothing."

"Great."

"We'll figure it out. We figured out Katie. We figured out each other. We figured out how to survive ghosts and kidnappers and teenagers. We can figure out a baby boy."

He laughed softly. "When you put it that way..."

"It's just another adventure. Another chapter."

"Chapter eighty," he said. "Or something like that."

"Something like that."

We rocked in the quiet room. The house was still. The city hummed outside.

A son. After all these years, a son.

I thought about the future. Teaching him to walk. Watching him grow. Seeing Louis teach him things, the way he taught Katie. Baseball. Business. How to be a good man.

I thought about the hard parts too. The sleepless nights. The tantrums. The teenage years, all over again.

But mostly, I thought about holding him. About his tiny fingers wrapped around mine. About his first smile, his first word, his first step.

About all the firsts we thought we were done with. About all the love we still had to give.

"We're lucky," I said quietly.

"We are."

"After everything. All the bad stuff. We're still here. Still together. Still getting lucky breaks."

Louis kissed my head. "That's not luck. That's us. We made this. We fought for this. We earned this."

I leaned into him, feeling his heart beat against my back.

"Now we just have to keep him safe. Keep them both safe."

"Forever and ever."

"And ever and ever."

We sat in the rocking chair until the moon moved across the sky. Two old parents, getting ready to start all over again.

And for the first time in weeks, I wasn't scared.

I was excited.

---

The next morning, I woke up with the sun. Louis was still asleep, his arm heavy around me.

I slipped out of bed and went to the nursery. The crib was still empty. The walls were still pale blue. The rocking chair was still by the window.

But something felt different.

I walked to the window and looked out at the garden. The same garden Lyle had stood in, watching us. The same garden where so much fear had lived.

Now it was just a garden. Peaceful. Green. Full of flowers.

I put my hand on my belly. Nineteen weeks. Still flat-ish, but not really. There was a bump now. A small, round bump that was all baby boy.

"Hey in there," I whispered. "It's your mom. I know you can hear me now. Louis—your dad—he talks to you every night. But I wanted to say something too."

I waited. Nothing. He was probably sleeping. Babies sleep a lot, even before they're born.

"I want you to know that you're loved. So loved. Before you're even here, you're loved. Your dad, your sister, me—we've been waiting for you. We didn't know we were waiting, but we were."

A flutter. A tiny movement. Real this time, not imagination.

I smiled. "You like that? Good. Get used to it. There's going to be a lot of talking in this family. A lot of love. A lot of chaos. But mostly a lot of love."

Another flutter.

"Welcome to the family, little boy. We can't wait to meet you."

I stood there in the morning sun, hand on my belly, watching the garden.

The past was the past. Lyle was in a place where he couldn't hurt anyone anymore. The ghosts were gone. The fear was fading.

All that was left was the future.

And the future was growing inside me.