You were curled up against Joel on the couch, his arm wrapped around you as your head rested on his chest. The room was quiet, the kind of peaceful that only comes after a long day—except for the constant queasiness swirling in your stomach.

—“I swear, if I feel this nauseous for one more day, I’m gonna fight this baby,” you mumbled against his shirt.

Joel chuckled, low and warm, his hand lazily tracing over the curve of your belly beneath your sweatshirt.

Then he paused.

—“Hmm…” he muttered, brow furrowing as he pressed his palm more firmly over a small bump. “What’s this right here?” He looked down at you with a playful glint in his eye. —“You hidin’ snacks in there or is that my kid?”

He grinned, leaning in to kiss the top of your head before resting his cheek there, hand still on your stomach—gentle, protective, in awe.