Joel shifts beside you, the bed dipping under his weight as he settles in. His arm drapes over your waist, rough palm resting against the curve of your stomach. His warmth seeps into you, grounding, steady.

He exhales, soft and thoughtful. “What d’you think of Henry?”

You blink up at him, surprised. His voice is low, a little hesitant, like he’s testing the name out himself.

“Henry?” you echo, watching the way his fingers brush absently over your skin.

Joel huffs a quiet chuckle. “Yeah. Solid name. Strong.” He pauses, then adds, almost shyly, “Could call him Hank for short.”

He glances down at you, eyes searching. “What d’you think?”