Page 124 of Good For Me

Sadness flashes through her eyes, but she smiles. “I think Huck is cute for a little boy. But that was only a nickname.”

My eyebrows go up. “It was? I didn’t know that.” We’ve never spent a ton of time talking about her grandfather—the subject is clearly painful for her—but she had mentioned his name to me once. I don’t remember her saying it was a nickname, though.

She nods. “His first name was kind of long.” Then she laughs. “Actually, though, it would go along with the rock star thing too.” She looks up at me. “How do you feel about George Harrison?”

I make a face. “Sorry, babe. Wyatt’s dog is George—”

She interrupts me with a shake of her head. “Not George. Harrison.”

I blink down at her. “Your grandfather’s name was Harrison?”

She nods, expression growing bewildered when she notices the look on my face. “What?”

I shake my head. “My mom’s last name was Harris.”

“Seriously?”

I nod, laughing, feeling kind of overwhelmed. It’s one of those moments that just seem big, somehow. Like you can feel some power in the universe talking right to you, telling you that this is it, that this is important.

“Our cousins refer to each other’s families by the moms’ maiden names most of the time. Since we’re all Ransomes, it’s easier.”

She looks a little overwhelmed, too. “So your cousins call your family Harris. And my grandfather’s name was Harrison. And there’s the rock star angle like your dad’s family.”

I pull her up to sitting so we’re facing each other. “Don’t you dare tell me you don’t believe in fate now.”

She laughs. “It’s just a coincidence.”

I groan dramatically. “Jas. The most important person in your life has nearly the same name as one of the most important people in mine. That’s bigger than a coincidence.”

She rolls her eyes at me, the way she always does when she talks about fate, but she’s smiling, too. “I actually really like it,” she murmurs. “Harrison, I mean.” She chews her bottom lip. “Do you think it’s too big of a name for a baby?”

“I think it’s a perfect name for a baby.” Now that we’ve said it, it feels right to me. “Harrison.”

To my surprise, her eyes get wet. “I really like it.”

I cup her cheeks in my hands. “Harrison or Poppy?”

She grins. “Perfect.”

And then—because fate really is real, damn it, no matter what Jas says—her eyes go big. “River.” A shock of fear goes through me but she grabs my hands, pressing them to a spot low on her belly. “You feel that?”

I hold my breath, waiting. She’s been feeling the baby move ever since that night in my Jeep. Just flutters at first—she said it might not even be the baby—but lately she’s said the movement is much more pronounced. She’s called me over before to press my hands against her stomach when she feels it, but it always stops the second I touch her.

The same appears true right now. “Dude, come on,” I groan.

“Sorry,” she says, sounding truly sympathetic.

I sigh dramatically. “It’s fine. Can’t really blame him for already preferring his mom.”

“Him, hmm?” she asks, eyebrows raised.

I shrug. “I’m cool with either. But right now, it feels like him.”

“Harrison,” she whispers, looking down at our joined hands on her belly.

And shit, how on earth could I possibly be mad that I didn’t feel the kick? I’m sitting under the sun, on a sandy beach, with the most gorgeous girl, deciding on a name for our baby.

After that we decide we’re getting warm again so we head into the water. The waves are pretty calm this time of the day and we’re on a sandy stretch that seems to spread far into the water. Since Jas is shorter than me, the water reaches her shoulders while it’s still in the middle of my chest. “Climb on,” I say, offering her my back. She wraps her arms and legs around me and I continue my trek into the water, stopping when the waves are lapping around my neck.