Summer is silent as we walk down the hallway to the ultrasound room.

She’s spoken to me twice today. The first time was to say my ultrasound is at twelve-thirty. The second time was to say you don’t need to be there.

Fuck that. I’m going to be here, even if she’s freezing me out.

I was awake when she started crying again last night, soundlessly, her shoulders shaking under the comforter, but when I tried to take her into my arms, she went stiff and still and refused to let me touch her.

I feel like shit.

I feel like shit on every level, from the worn-away liner in my prosthetic to the sleepless grit in my eyes to the fact that even when I’m trying to get as far away from my past as I can, it always catches up with me. No fucking surprise. I’m a man without both of his feet.

It was only one day.

The rest of it—the rest of it, I’ve lost track of. A few weeks? A few months? I was swimming in a sea of pain, endless and excruciating, and I knew it was my punishment for that lapse in my attention on that mountain. I wasn’t in the right frame of mind when I made the choice. I’d explain it to Summer now that the desperate need for flight has passed and I’ve settled into the fact that we’re staying where we are, but she will not speak to me. She won’t even look at me. She came to this appointment in a separate cab.

She lies back on the table and pulls up her shirt, her belly big but still perfect, her skin creamy and beautiful. The ultrasound tech makes small talk. It all washes over me, meaningless and generic. It’s hot out there, huh? You must be miserable. No, it’s all worth it in the end. With my two…

Summer’s face is lit up by the ultrasound machine, and I can see from here that she’s exhausted. Heavy, dark bags under her eyes. Her mouth in a thin line. My heart wrenches. This should be a joyful experience for her, or as much as it can be. Hot, sickening spasms of guilt sear across my gut. It would be a beautiful experience, if it wasn’t for me.

“Here’s baby’s head,” the tech says, and presses the wand into Summer’s belly so we can both see. The profile is perfect. I don’t linger on the screen.

Summer’s face softens. “Beautiful,” she whispers. I want so badly to be holding her hand.

“Did you find out the sex at your twenty-week appointment?” The tech’s voice is carefully neutral. She’s not going to push us one way or the other. There’s zero pressure in the room as she swipes the wand around, checking the heart, the lungs, the fingers and toes.

“No,” Summer says, and the longing in her voice takes me aback. We’d laughed at the twenty-week appointment. It was going to be a grand surprise, whether the baby was a boy or a girl, but even in the dark, I can see fresh tears pooling at the corners of Summer’s eyes.

I clear my throat. “Could we find out today?”

She looks at me for the first time since last night. “Is that what you want?”

I scoot closer on the rolling stool and put my hand on the edge of the bed. Not touching her, but available. “What I want is for you to know that some things aren’t surprises. There are things you can count on.”

Her chin quivers. “Like what?”

I take her hand in mine and lift her knuckles to my lips. “Me.”

Summer blinks, once, then twice. “Are you sure about that?” She doesn’t add the rest. She doesn’t add because last night you scared me so badly I cried myself to sleep.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

“Call it, Dad,” interjects the ultrasound tech. “Do you want to know if baby is a boy or a girl?”

“We do.”

The tech gives us an encouraging nod, her dark hair shining in the light of the screen, and sweeps the wand confidently around. There is our baby, suspended in Summer’s belly, small and perfect and—

“There she is. It’s a girl!” The tech says it without warning, and Summer gives a little whoop. I feel her joy straight through her hand. Even if I couldn’t see her smile, I’d feel it in every cell of my body.

“A girl,” I echo. There’s a burst of light and warmth at the center of my chest dawns like a sunrise. A little girl. I can see her lying in Summer’s arms. I can see her cooing in mine. My two girls. The sunrise turns to a hard light.

I’ll do whatever it takes to protect them.

Even if that means going toe-to-toe with Alexei.

Even if that means atoning for what I’ve done.

But the future seems far away as the ultrasound tech helps Summer wipe the gel from her skin before she heads down the hall to print off pictures for us to take with us. This time, the prints will say BABY GIRL SULLIVAN on them.

As soon as the door shuts behind her, I fold Summer into my arms. She leans into me as far as she can, bending her head to rest it on my shoulder. “I’m not going to cry.”

“Don’t cry,” I say into her ear. “We’re having a little girl.”

“Your little girl,” she says, and pushes back to look at me. “Don’t—” Summer swallows and lifts her chin. “Please don’t ever—”

“I’ll never say that to you again.” I put my thumb on the ridge of her chin. “I’ll never leave you again.” I mean those words with everything in my soul.

I mean it, but in the back of my mind is the gnawing truth: I might not be able to control it.

But that’s far from this room and this moment. “You made me so angry,” Summer breathes, and then she laughs out loud, wiping tears from her eyes. “We have a lot to talk about.”

“Let’s celebrate first. I want to take my girls out for lunch.”

“Yes. Let’s invite Whitney.” Summer realizes what I meant a beat later. “And…the baby can come along, too.”

The shape of the words feels right in my mouth. “But Sunny?”

“Yeah?”

“Promise me—” Now I’m getting choked up, and there’s no way I’m going to put on that kind of show in front of the ultrasound tech. She would walk back into the room during just that kind of moment. “Just promise me you’ll be safe. I can’t lose both of you.”

“Lose us?” She laughs, but then her face transforms into a serious expression. “Day, the only way you’re going to lose us is if you walk away.” It takes my breath away. But then Summer grins. “I don’t know how far you’d get on one foot, but I wouldn’t recommend trying it.”

“You are unbelievable.” I laugh out loud, the tension falling away from my shoulders, and wrap her up in a bear hug.

“Baby. Baby,” she says, pushing back playfully. “Leave room for the baby.”

“Is this enough room?” I bend and kiss her, and she opens her pretty lips for me just as the ultrasound tech opens the door.