We had told my parents about the baby in grand fashion, worthy of its own news story on one of the local channels.

At first, Blake hadn’t been too keen on the idea, she was more low key and I knew she was a bit sad that her dad and brother weren't here to take part in this. But slowly, I had convinced her, letting her get excited about telling people.

She was officially eight weeks at Christmas, and we had decided that was safe enough to tell them.

We wrapped a little onesie with I Love My Grandparents written on it, and wrapped it up in red and green paper. On Christmas morning, after we had opened presents with Rhett at her house, we'd driven to Rodanthe and spent the day with them.

I'd told them to open their present, that it was from both of us.

I swear, if I could bottle the look on my mom's face when she'd realized what it meant, I could spread it to the world and no one would ever be sad again.

She had cried and screamed with happiness, kissing both of our cheeks and babbling on about baby names and clothes.

Dad had sat in his favorite chair and glowed with pride; I knew he could not wait to be a grandpa.

I knew that because I was at the office with him now, and he'd just told me.

"A girl, huh? I'm going to spoil her rotten." He rubs his hands together.

My stomach does that drop again, and I nod. "I bet you are."

I look back at the stack of papers on my desk, and sign off on some orders I needed to. People say you shouldn't work on the weekend, but they don't know anything about owning your own business.

"Out with it kid, what's wrong?"

I should have known, after all, I am my father's son. He and I cope exactly the same, and of course he would know that I'm not feeling the best I can about this.

"I'm just ... nervous. What if I don't know what to do? What if I screw the kid up, you know? I can't tell Blake this. And I have no idea what little girls like. Shit."

Laying my head in my hands, I feel better and worse for letting that all out in the open.

And my head snaps up seconds later when I hear my father's boisterous laugh.

"Oh, Carson, let me let you in on a little secret ... none of us know what the hell we are doing when it comes to raising a child. Even mothers. Jesus, do you know how many times I almost dropped you when your mother wasn't around? But guess what? You turned out fine! Parenting isn't about being perfect, it's about loving your child and making the best decision you can in that moment. They won't always be the right decisions, but that's life. You get a million chances to correct the mistakes. I promise, you will be fine."

His words comfort me marginally, but I still feel guilty.

“But a girl, Dad? I have to learn about boy bands and how to … I don’t know, what’s that called? French braid?” I threw my hands up.

My dad made a snorting noise. “Now that’s just sexist. Your mother loves baseball, doesn’t she? And I’m pretty sure the mother of your future child is the best surfer I ever knew. And don’t pretend like you didn’t like the Backstreet Boys when you were little. I still have the posters to prove it.”

This makes me feel a little better. Because before now, I was just thinking in generalities. Of course each person exists with their own set of personality traits and interests. All girls don’t like pink and baby dolls. All boys don’t like sports and superheroes. I was being a jackass, when what I was really afraid of was my own fear. My own insecurities about becoming a dad.

“I think the lightbulb just went on. And I think you need to go home and talk to your girlfriend about it.” Dad tipped his head at me, and I was already standing out of my chair.

Ten minutes later, and my truck is coming to a stop outside of Blake’s house. Well, my house now. It was taking me a little while to adjust, to see it as the place that I would live and make a home now. But with her here, and the tidal wave of baby items coming through the door, it was getting easier.

“Babe?” I yelled out as I walked in the door, not hearing her or Rhett.

“Up in the nursery!” Her voice is music to my ears, and as I crest the first set of stairs, I’m slammed in the knees by a very excited Labrador.

I ruffled Rhett’s ears as I made my way into the room we’d designated as the nursery. The fumes of paint hit my nose, and my body freezes as my eyes lock in on my pregnant girlfriend. I’ve always been wildly attracted to Blake; she’s always been the only woman in the room for me. But I never imagined how fucking turned on I’d be at seeing my girl when she was pregnant.

Her skin glowed, she was more radiant than I’d ever seen her. Her curves were accentuated, and my new favorite activity was weighing her growing breasts in my hands. God, just thinking about her naked, rounded body made me swell in my pants.

Blake was beautiful, standing barefoot in the nursery, one hand on her belly and the other stroking a paintbrush on the wall.

“Do you like this pink better, or this pink better?” Blake doesn’t turn around, but instead considers the swatches of paint she’s just brushed onto the wall.

To me, they look exactly the same, but what do I know? I’m going to give her whatever she wants in this room. Along with the rest of our lives.

“I want whatever you want, babe.” I come up behind her and wrap my arms around her bump, hoping to feel the baby move. She’s always dancing just before I can get my hands on her, like she’s playing hard to get. I’m already madly in love.

“Wow, you’re going to be a such a sucker for this little girl if you keep talking like that. She’ll have you wrapped right around her finger.”

A wide smile is all I glimpse before Blake turns and plants her lips on mine. It’s quick, just a peck, like we’d be doing it forever. And it makes me want to tell her all of the things that have been swimming around in my brain.

“But what if I’m not a good father?” I whisper it, because it makes me feel weak.

“Carson Cole!” Blake turns fully, scolding me with her expression. “That’s not even a possibility.”

I take her hands in mine. “Isn’t it? Come on, it’s not like I’ve been the greatest at confronting my issues or taking responsibility.”

I think of how long it took me to come back to her, to fight for us.

Blake shakes her head and places a hand on my cheek. “We’re in this together, baby. I’m petrified of being a mother, hell I didn’t even grow up with one. But I can … I can feel her inside me. And I know, I just know, we will be great at this. We can do this. We have so much love for each other, there is no way we won’t love this baby. Think about everything we’ve been through. This is it. Our happy little miracle after the storm.”

In all of my worries, I was being selfish again. I hadn’t even thought about how being a mother to a little girl was affecting Blake. And of course, per usual, she was right.

“How do you always know the perfect thing to say to get me out of my own head?” I leaned my forehead in to touch hers.

“Because I know you almost as well as I know myself. That’s what happens when you meet your soul mate at seven years old.”

Our eyes lock and hold, and something magical is happening in this room, we both feel it. Blake is right, this baby is our miracle. And I’m not going to pepper it with worry and anxiety.

For the first time in a long time, I’m just going to let life take me where it wants to, and to enjoy floating on the waves of unpredictable bliss.