Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 695

Chapter 695

Gwen’s POV

The hospital wristband felt too light for the weight I was carrying.

My name printed in black ink reduced my entire life to one clean line. As if the hardest thing in the world were just a well-entered record.

I pressed the folder to my chest, checked the time on my phone for the third time, and, out of habit, organized everything I needed to say. Weeks. Symptoms. Questions. Follow-up tests.

I could do this.

I always could.

If I kept everything perfectly organized, I wouldn’t feel anything beyond what was necessary.

Lie.

What I felt was a constant hum in my chest. Like an engine running in neutral.

Nick walked beside me with enough calm for both of us. His hand found mine when he noticed I was gripping the folder too tightly.

“We’re early,” he said, like time was something gentle.

“I plan to be early,” I replied.

He let out a soft laugh.

“Of course you do.”

The receptionist asked for our documents, and I answered automatically. Na

I liked numbers.

Numbers don’t lie.

ates. Numbers.

Nick let me speak without interrupting, but when the woman stepped away, he tilted his head toward me.

“Are you breathing?”

I blinked, like he’d caught me doing something wrong.

“Of course.”

“Real breathing, Gwen.”

I swallowed. Inhaled. Exhaled. The air scraped a little on the way in, but it went in.

Nick brushed his knee lightly against mine. Subtle. Present.

1/5

“Want to tell me something that has nothing to do with heartbeats, weeks, or protocols?” he asked.

I stared at the white wall, searching for a subject like it was an exit.

“The gelato place on the corner closed,” I said.

“It did not,” he answered immediately.

“It did.”

“I pass it every day. It exists.”

“I walked by yesterday. There was a sign.” I looked at him. “Closed for renovations.””

He placed a hand dramatically over his chest.

“This is a local tragedy.”

The absurdity pulled a micro-smile out of me.

“I know,” I murmured.

He brushed his thumb over mine, and I felt the silent promise there. I’m not leaving you alone in this.

They called my name.

I stood, straightened my spine, and followed the nurse down the hallway like it was a corporate corridor.

The ultrasound room was small and spotless. Dim lighting. A large screen. A smaller monitor beside it. The exam table in the center like a white altar.

The doctor walked in smiling.

“Gwen. Nick.” She greeted us warmly. “How have you been feeling?” she ask

I knew exactly what I was supposed to say.

Fine. Everything under control. No relevant symptoms.

ng up a chair.

But the memory of vomiting on the sidewalk still lingered, and I didn’t want to lie in that room.

“I… had an anxiety episode on the way here,” I admitted. The words felt strangely heavy. “But I’m better

now.”

The doctor nodded, without drama.

“That happens. Especially when there have been difficult experiences associated with pregnancy,” she said gently. “We’ll take it slow.”

She moved through the standard steps. Blood pressure. Routine questions. Confirming the weeks.

“Based on your dates, you’re around sixteen weeks, correct?” she checked.

“Yes.”

Nick stood nearby, leaning against the wall, but I felt him like he was inside my peripheral vision.

The doctor put on gloves, prepared the gel, and I recognized that moment when my body tries to react

before I do.

I lifted my dress, lay back on the table, and the cold touch of gel made me hold my breath.

“Okay,” she said softly, placing the transducer against my abdomen. “Let’s see how this baby is doing.”

The screen flickered to life.

I saw shapes. Shadows. A curved line that could have been anything.

I hated this part of the exam. My brain trying to decode what looked like abstract art.

“Everything looks good here,” the doctor said, guiding the probe like she knew the terrain by heart. “Fluid levels are good. Placenta looks fine. Measurements are right on track.”

Everything looks good.

Two words I wanted to believe without conditions.

“Would you like to know if it’s a boy or a girl?” she asked suddenly, like she was offering dessert.

I froze.

I didn’t know if I wanted to know. Knowing meant giving it a face. A future. A name.

I turned my head toward Nick.

He didn’t speak. Just gave me a small nod. Barely there. If you want, I’m here

I swallowed.

“Yes,” I said.

The doctor tilted her head toward the screen.

“We’ll try,” she said. “Sometimes the baby doesn’t cooperate.”

Nick stepped closer and took my hand. The warmth of his palm was the only thing in that room that felt completely solid.

“Have you thought about names yet?” the doctor asked casually.

A short, involuntary laugh escaped me.

“So far, the list includes Thunder for a boy and Princess Glitter for a girl,” I said with enough seriousness to make it sound real.

325

Nick let out a quiet laugh.

“Our baby has a very creative big sister,” he told the doctor, pride simple and unfiltered in his voice. “She believes everyone needs a powerful name.”

The doctor smiled.

“So there’s a little creative director in the family.”

I closed my eyes for a second. Family was still a word that felt fragile in my mouth.

The doctor refocused on the screen.

“Okay…” she murmured, adjusting the probe carefully. “He… or she… is being a little shy.”

My stomach flipped.

“Shy how?” I asked.

“Sometimes the baby crosses their legs or turns in a way that hides things,” she explained gently. “Like they’re saying, ‘Not today.””

Nick chuckled softly.

The doctor shifted the probe again.

“Let’s see… there. Almost. No, turned again.”

My heart started racing like this playful guessing game was some kind of test.

Then the doctor exhaled lightly.

“Today we might not be able to confirm the sex with absolute certainty,” she s can do? We can listen to the heartbeat.”

it you know what we

Nick squeezed my hand.

The doctor adjusted a few buttons. Turned up the volume. Asked for quiet with a small gesture.

I held my breath without realizing it.

At first, it was faint. A distant static. Like rain on a roof.

Then it came through clearly.

Thump-thump-thump-thump.

Fast. Small. Determined.

The tears came before I registered them.

Nick brought his free hand to his face, brushing at his eye in a useless attempt to hide it.

4/5

“Oh my God,” he whispered.

The sound continued.

Thump-thump-thump.

I stared at the screen. The shapes shifted, trembled, organized into something I recognized without having a word for it.

Life.

The tears slid down and I didn’t try to stop them. There was no reason to. Not there.

Nick bent his head and kissed my hand, right over my fingers.

“Do you hear that?” I asked him, like I might be imagining it.

He nodded, eyes bright.

“I do,” he said. “I hear it.”

And for a few seconds, I let the sound fill the space where fear usually lives.

I let Nick be my anchor.

I let life just be life.

Thump-thump-thump.

Like, for one brief moment, the whole world fit inside that tiny rhythm.

D

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