Spencer Reid had memorized a thousand books, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight of her—barefoot in their tiny kitchen, hair a wild halo, one hand resting on her very pregnant belly as she scowled at a jar she couldn’t open.

“You’re staring again,” she muttered without looking up.

“I’m allowed,” he said softly, taking the jar from her gently. “You’re my wife. And also currently carrying our entire universe.”

She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched in a smile. “Flattery won’t get you out of midnight foot rub duty.”

Spencer chuckled, setting the jar down and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Wasn’t trying to. I actually scheduled it in already—between reading The Birth Partner and panicking internally.”

He meant it as a joke, but she caught the flicker of anxiety in his voice. Her fingers found his wrist. “Spence. You’re going to be a great dad.”

“I’ve never had a model for it,” he admitted, quietly.

She guided his hand to her belly, where their baby shifted with slow, sleepy kicks. “You don’t need a model. Just a heart. And you’ve always had the biggest one.”

Spencer blinked hard. He knew numbers, patterns, and probabilities. But nothing about this felt predictable. Still, with her—his stubborn, radiant, fierce wife—he didn’t feel like a scared kid anymore.

“Do you think they’ll have your eyes?” he whispered.