Page 89 of Louder Than Words

I nod. “Things are… great,” I say with a small shrug.

Just like they’re supposed to be. Because that’s how peopleshouldreact to good news. Even if it takes a little while to get there.

Hopefully that’s the reaction we’ll get when we’re ready to tell people about the baby.

36

Allie

One would think with Lydia being only three, that I’d still remember what early pregnancy feels like. And for the most part, I do. But the thing I somehow forgot about?

The cramps.

Not the scary kind, thankfully. Just the normal, first-trimester kind. And since I decided to go with family medicine, my knowledge on obstetrics is pretty limited, but I’d place myself right around seven weeks. So the burning, pulling sensation that catches me off guard every time I reach too fast or toss my hair into a bun? Completely normal.

I just have to remind myself: I’m growing an entire person and my body’s already working overtime.

And today? So is my mind.

Because today is our last day in court. And my brain doesn’t have the space for the emotional spiral it keeps threatening tofall into. But I know I’ve got this. There’s no one more capable of raising those two girls than the one who’s been doing it since they were born. No one else knows them the way I do. I mean, Trevor likes to act like he does, like he’s just as in tune with them as I am.

But the truth is? He’s not.

He doesn’t know Charlotte refuses to eat crunchy peanut butter because of the texture. Or that Lydia can’t wear the off-brand training pants without breaking out in a rash. He doesn’t know those things, because he never paid attention, at least not until Marissa showed up.

And yeah, I’m glad he finally wants to step up. That he wants to be a father, a real one. The kind they deserve. But showing up now doesn’t mean you get to erase everything that came before. It doesn’t mean you take them away from the one person who’s carried them through all of their firsts.

Their first nightmare. The first time they were sick. The person who cheered them on the first time they took more than two steps without crashing onto the floor.

You don’t show love by ripping them away from other people’s love.

Which is another reason why I haven’t told them about the baby yet.

I’m terrified, absolutely terrified, that something’s going to go wrong. That somehow, Trevor’s going to win, and they’ll think Jax and I are trying to replace them. And nothing—nothing—in this world could ever do that.

But how do you even explain that to a five-year-old and a three-year-old? That your heart doesn’t divide when you introduce, it expands. That’s a little hard to teach when their father is making it nearly impossible, trying to prove the dividing part of that scenario.

Jax’s hand suddenly lands on my knee, making the bouncing stop instantly. I didn’t even know I was doing that.

I look up and give him a small, hopefully genuine smile. “Sorry,” I murmur, leaning into him on the wooden bench. “I’m just extra nervous today.”

He tilts his head, sliding an arm around my shoulders. “I know you are. But you have no reason to be. We’re all here for you.”

I glance around the room, letting my gaze pause on every face sitting here—every person who showed up forme.

Trevor has himself and Marissa.

I have an entire village.

And that’s saying a lot more than I ever thought it would. All these people dropped what they were doing today to protect my daughters and me. Even my boss, Ashley. I know for a fact she postponed meetings just to be here and speak on my behalf—even though I haven’t taken many shifts these past few months. Still, she showed up.

A door opens to my right, and a short woman with glasses perched low on her nose steps out.

“Monroe v. Windsor,” she calls, scanning the room.

She clearly wasn’t expecting this many people. Her eyes widen slightly, and she flinches at the sudden scuff of feet on tile and the hush of conversations bouncing off the walls.

I follow the others into the courtroom and head straight for my little designated spot—the same table as last time.