“Well,” she said, “your daughter is being very cooperative today.”
“Daughter,” Natalie repeated.
“We’re having a girl,” Carter whispered.
He said it again in the car afterward.
“A girl,” he murmured, staring at the ultrasound photo. “We’re having a girl.”
“You already have a girl,” Natalie pointed out. “Jasmine.”
“That’s different,” he said. “I’m her guardian. I love her like crazy. But this… this is…” He shook his head. “This is our daughter.”
Back at the apartment, he called everyone.
Benjamin yelled loud enough for Natalie to hear from across the room. Jasmine demanded to know if she could paint the nursery ocean‑themed.
Even Victoria sounded moved.
“A granddaughter,” she said. “My first granddaughter.”
That evening, they lay in bed with Carter’s hand resting on Natalie’s belly.
“What should we name her?” he asked.
“Something strong,” Natalie said. “Something beautiful.”
“Like her mother,” he said.
She rolled her eyes.
“You’re very smooth,” she told him.
“I’m sincere,” he said. “There’s a difference.”
He propped himself on one elbow.
“You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met,” he said. “You collapsed on my doorstep and instead of asking for anything, you just wanted me to know about our daughter. You stood up to my mother. You refused money. You rebuilt your career from nothing.”
“I’m just doing what I have to do,” she said.
“That’s what makes it extraordinary,” he replied.
He hesitated.
“I want to marry you,” he blurted.
She blinked.
“That’s… not exactly subtle,” she said.
“I know,” he said. “And that was not how I planned to say it. I’m not officially proposing. Not yet. When I do, it’ll be better than this.”
He leaned closer.
“But I needed you to know,” he said. “This isn’t obligation. It’s choice. Every day, I choose you.”
The kiss that followed was different from the hesitant ones before.
Slower.
Deeper.
Full of promise.
When they finally broke apart, they were both breathing hard.
“Carter,” she whispered. “I want…”
“Tell me,” he said.
“You,” she said. “I want you. No more holding back. No more tiptoeing. Just… us.”
Something bright and fierce lit in his eyes.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “The doctor said—”
“The doctor said it’s safe,” she said. “And I’ve been sure for weeks. I’m just tired of waiting.”
His answer was another kiss.
He was as careful with her as he’d been that first night, but there was no hesitation now. No doubt.
Just love.
Later, wrapped in his arms with their daughter kicking gently between them, Natalie felt peace settle into her bones.
No regrets.
Only one thought.
I should have let myself have this sooner.
At thirty‑seven weeks, Natalie was officially done with being pregnant.
“I’m a whale,” she complained, struggling to get up from the couch. “A very tired whale.”
“You’re beautiful,” Carter said.
“I’m enormous,” she insisted.
“Beautifully enormous,” he corrected.
“If you don’t stop talking,” she warned, “I’m going to throw a pillow at you.”
He wisely changed the subject.
“The hospital bag’s packed,” he said. “Again.”
“You keep adding things,” she pointed out. “We don’t need three going‑home outfits for her.”
“What if she spits up on the first one?” he demanded.
She smiled.
He was going to be such a good dad.
The doorbell rang.
Marcus appeared on the security tablet screen.
“Charlotte Whitmore is downstairs,” he said. “Should I send her away?”
Natalie’s stomach clenched.
She’d been avoiding Charlotte for months—ignoring calls, deleting messages.
“No,” she said after a beat. “Let her up.”
“Are you sure?” Carter asked.
“No,” she admitted. “But I’m tired of running from hard conversations.”
Charlotte looked older when she stepped into the living room.
Tired.
Smaller somehow.
“Thank you for seeing me,” she said.
“You have five minutes,” Natalie said, sitting carefully.
“I know I don’t deserve forgiveness,” Charlotte said. “What I did was awful. I was jealous and hurt and I tried to hurt you back. I can’t undo that. But I’ve been in therapy. And I’ve spent the last three months contacting every client you lost, every publication that ran those stories, telling them the truth.”
She held out an envelope.
“These are letters,” she said. “Apologies from clients. Retractions from websites. A statement I gave the press taking responsibility. I also set up a trust fund for your daughter. It’s in your name. You can refuse it, but I wanted to try to make something right.”
“Money doesn’t fix betrayal,” Natalie said quietly.
“I know,” Charlotte said. “Nothing does. Except time. And proving I’m not that person anymore. I don’t expect us to be best friends again. I don’t even expect you to like me. I just… I needed you to know I’m sorry. Really sorry.”
She turned to leave.
“Charlotte,” Natalie said.
Charlotte turned back, hope flickering.
“I’m not ready to forgive you,” Natalie said. “Maybe not for a long time.”
Charlotte nodded, accepting it.
“But,” Natalie added, “I appreciate that you’re trying to make it right. That takes courage.”
Charlotte’s smile was small and sad.
“I hope someday I can meet her,” she said. “Your daughter. And maybe show her that people can change.”
“Maybe,” Natalie said. “Someday.”
After she left, Carter pulled Natalie into a careful hug.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I think so,” she said. “It felt good to say what I needed to say. To not just forgive because it’s easier.”
“That’s my fierce woman,” he murmured. “My fiancée.”
“Yours?” she asked.
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