Father-to-be Book Novels & Stories

"I read in books that fetal education is very good for children, and it'll be better if the fetal's father is involved as well..." "Hah! Do you mean that women can't give birth to the baby if the father isn't involved in the baby's fetal education?" "Alright, I don't have time to waste here because I have more serious issues. If you have nothing to do, go up and rest. Don't disturb me!"

--- Saturday, I spent the day preparing. Not for the conversation. For the anatomy scan. I bought a new notebook. Started a baby journal. Week 16. What I want you to know. Your dad works a lot. Like, A LOT. But he loves you already. So much. He talks to you when he thinks I'm sleeping. Tells you about his day. About the patients he saved. About how he can't wait to meet you. I'm scared sometimes. That we won't make it. Your dad and me. That the stress will break us. But I'm also hopeful. Because we love each other. And we love you. And maybe that's enough.

Everything she could get her little hands on would find its way in her mouth. Late in the afternoon, it wasn't for a short time she whined she kept going as she rubbed her cheeks furiously. "What do you think is wrong honey?" I asked James. "Hmmm, I don't know. I think I'll get the book." He mused. Of course, he would get the book. It was a book about babies, from the day they were born until they turned one year old. It was like his bible for everything concerning our baby girl.

"What's wrong with me?" "You're pregnant," Ava said, the two words falling into the quiet room like heavy iron weights. "Six weeks. The pup is healthy, Kaira... but its aura is unmistakable. It carries the Alpha bloodline of the Golden Pack." The world stopped. The crackle of the fireplace, the howling mountain wind outside, the sound of my own breathing—everything vanished, replaced by an agonizing, deafening ringing in my ears. Liam's child.

I said. He looked at me. "Define ready," he said. "For the baby," I said. "For all of it." He considered the question. Not with deflection. With the specific genuine consideration of a man who had been asked something real and was giving it a real answer. "I have read four books," he said. I looked at him. "Four specific books on infant care and early development," he said. "I have cross referenced their recommendations and identified the areas of consensus and the areas of disagreement and formed views on both."

“You have to know this stuff.” Devon took to the research with an intensity that bordered on obsession. Parenting books lined the shelves in their bedroom, dog-eared and annotated in his careful handwriting. He read late into the night, sipping bitter coffee, imagining the baby he had not yet met. How to cradle her, how to soothe her cries, how to anticipate needs he couldn’t yet comprehend. Each page, each note, was a way to prepare for the moment when he would finally hold her, when he would finally understand what it truly meant to be needed.

And a stack of baby books. I blinked. “What is this?” “Operation: Calm the Hell Down,” he said, setting his phone down and walking toward me. “Doctor’s orders. Zero stress. So that means I feed you, distract you, and read to you until you fall asleep.” “Damian,” I murmured, hand to my chest. He grinned sheepishly. “I had Chris bought a few books. There’s one on high-risk pregnancies and another on baby names. Oh, and one called What to Expect When You’re Expecting to Lose Your Mind. Thought that one might be relatable.”

" His words sent a thrill through me, but Susan beamed with uncontained joy. I opened my mouth to tell my father the truth, but I hesitated. I remembered Susan's promise—she only needed one day to experience this life, and then she would return my father to me. So, I swallowed my urge to speak. "Dad, uh… Do you need a housekeeper at home?" Susan shot me a look, silently pleading with my father not to keep me around. My fists clenched tightly. I couldn't believe she was going back on her word. My father turned to me, his gaze softening with an unexpected warmth. Then, slowly shaking his head, he murmured, "It's… it's uncanny how much you look like her." He then asked, "Are you married?"

That didn’t mean that I never wanted one, or that I wanted to wait twenty years for one. Then Grandma Kris delicately pointed out an obvious fact that I had thus far been unwilling to acknowledge. “Sweetie, if you give up both of these Booker boys, you are giving up the father of your unborn child. You are making the decision that your baby will grow up without his or her dad.” She touched my shoulder as her words sank in. “You are a strong, wonderful woman. You have a terrific, supportive friend in Kim, and you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried. You will probably eventually find a man who loves you and your child. If you’re lucky, he might even love this child like his own, but it won’t b

"I'm your dad. We're at thirty weeks now, which means you're getting close to being ready to meet us. Your other dad is working very hard to keep you safe until then, and I'm working very hard to keep both of you safe." The baby kicked against his cheek, seemingly in response to his voice. "I know you're cramped in there. I know you probably want out. But you need to stay put for at least seven more weeks, okay? Give your body time to finish developing. Let us prepare for your arrival." He paused. "Though I'm not sure we'll ever be truly prepared. I'm terrified of being your father. Of messing this up somehow. But I promise I'll try my best. I'll love you and protect you and be better than m