Author's Note: Follows Now I Know My Life Is Sweetening and could be considered something of an epilogue for that. Part 32 of Don't Blink.
As always, thanks and cyber-hugs to Skywarrior108 for being an awesome beta.
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or the characters, I just like to play with them…strictly non-profit.
When Everything Is Beautiful
It's not that unusual
When everything is beautiful
It's just another ordinary miracle today
~Ordinary Miracle, Sarah McLachlan
Quinn isn't entirely certain what exactly pulls her from her dreams, but the room is still dark and quiet and a little chilled from the wintery night air when her eyes flutter open. Despite the cold of the season, she's snug and warm beneath the blankets—doubly so from the heat of Rachel's body curved around her back and the arm draped loosely over her waist. Rachel has been determinedly persistent about being the big spoon lately, sneakily maneuvering into that position at every opportunity, and Quinn's lips pull into a grin as her mind wakes up enough to remember why.
Rachel's hold on her is slackened with sleep, but her hand still rests unerringly low on Quinn's belly—over the spot where their baby is growing. Quinn turns her face further into the pillow and inhales deeply, intending to let herself drift back to sleep in her wife's arms as she basks in the familiar cocoon of bliss that's been surrounding her for the last month.
That bliss is only slightly dampened by the presence of the increasingly annoying churn of nausea that's becoming more and more noticeable in quiet moments like this. Quinn is familiar enough with the nuisance from her first pregnancy, and while it had started even earlier this time around—no doubt thanks to the progesterone shots that she's still taking—it's also been mildly more tolerable so far.
Just as long as Rachel doesn't put on any coffee when Quinn is around to smell it.
Or burn anything in her kitchen.
Or ever, ever try to recreate that onion and cauliflower concoction that she'd attempted to make last Friday.
Even the distant memory of that potent scent has Quinn's stomach swirling once again, and her content smile instantly slips away.
Her fingers twitch on the mattress, and she draws in a measured breath before exhaling it slowly. She refuses to have to bolt from the warmth of their bed and Rachel's loose embrace to race into the cold bathroom.
It's not happening.
She can will this unpleasant sensation away.
Or—
Maybe not.
Groaning, Quinn haphazardly kicks the covers away and scrambles out of bed, pressing a hand to her mouth as she rushes out of the bedroom, nearly tripping over Oliver in her haste to make it to the bathroom before last night's dinner makes an unwelcome reappearance. She's only vaguely aware of her name being called out in sleepy concern from behind her, the faint echo of it chasing her as she slides onto the floor in front of the toilet.
She would have happily taken her second chance at motherhood without the morning sickness, but that's obviously not going to be an option. It's a small price to pay for the miracle of new life, but oh lord, it's a disgusting one.
Somewhere in the midst of her unpleasant retching, Quinn feels a soothing hand on her back and another gently pulling the hair away from her face. "Oh, baby," Rachel coos sorrowfully. "You're okay. Just let it out."
As if she has a choice! Quinn would roll her eyes if they weren't currently squeezed shut in misery.
Despite the general dreadfulness of her current position, Quinn can't help feeling grateful that Rachel is here with her—on her knees and pressed into Quinn's side as much as she can be. She can count on one hand the number of times that either Finn or Puck had done this for her when she'd been pregnant with Beth and still have four fingers left over.
After what feels like forever but is really only a minute or two, Quinn's stomach finally seems to settle—however uneasily—enough for her to gain the confidence to stop clutching at the toilet and lift her head, gingerly sitting back into Rachel's waiting arms.
"Feel better?" Rachel asks in a small, hopeful voice while she gently rubs Quinn's shoulder.
"Oh, bunches," Quinn rasps sardonically, reaching out a weak hand to shut the lid of the toilet before she flushes it. Honestly though, she does feel a little bit better now.
"Should I get the crackers? Some peppermint? Or I could make you a piece of toast if you think it will help," Rachel offers with an encouraging smile.
Quinn sighs, running a hand through her tangled hair. She mostly just wants to brush her teeth, gargle some mouthwash, and slip back under the blankets to snuggle with her wife for another few hours until they absolutely have to be up. "What time is it anyway?"
Rachel shrugs slightly. "I think it's around five-thirty. I was a little more concerned with making sure you were okay than checking the time."
The flash of lingering worry in Rachel's eyes is easy to recognize—Quinn has been seeing different versions of it ever since they'd started talking about getting pregnant. This morning's version is specifically fixated on the well-being of Quinn and their baby. In fact, that's the version Quinn has been seeing most often since the first pregnancy test had come back positive.
Despite the consistently glowing results of Quinn's repeated bloodwork and the fact that she's feeling strong and healthy, Rachel still can't shake her need to proceed with hopeful caution (or extremely cautious hope) until Quinn is officially released from Doctor Klein's care after the ten week mark. Actually, Rachel seems pretty determined to remain cautious until Quinn is past the first trimester despite Quinn's instinctive certainty that there's nothing wrong and that their baby very much wants to be born, but Quinn is resigned to humoring her wife.
Part of that means agreeing to Rachel's request not to tell anyone that they're expecting until Quinn is a little further along. They'd naturally told Steven that his little swimmers had gotten the job done, of course, but Santana had figured it out on her own after she'd noticed Quinn carrying around the same untouched glass of wine on New Year's Eve, and Teresa knows by default since Santana's ability to be discreet only extends so far. Otherwise, it's still their own (mostly) private secret. Quinn has discovered that she actually kind of likes it this way—at least for the moment.
And today's moment will include their first ultrasound. Okay, technically it's more like their twenty-first ultrasound if they're including all the ones they've had to endure during the treatment, but this is the first one in which they'll get to see their growing baby and, with any luck, hear his or her heartbeat for the very first time.
Quinn can't wait.
A faint smile curves her lips as she gazes at Rachel. "I suppose it's close enough to morning to attempt the toast," she concedes a little reluctantly, knowing that she won't be falling back to sleep now anyway, "since your kid is obviously deciding to take after you by being a ridiculously early riser."
Rachel huffs audibly, biting back an amused grin. "I somehow doubt our unborn child's heretofore nonexistent sleeping habits have anything to do with the reason you're awake so early."
"Are you seriously going to argue with your pregnant wife right now?" Quinn challenges playfully. "After she just got done puking her guts out as a result of bringing your baby into the world?"
"Our baby," Rachel corrects, predictably laying a hand over Quinn's belly. "And I'm very sorry that I can't fully share this particular experience with you," she appeases, although—
"You don't look very sorry," Quinn grumbles suspiciously.
Rachel grins sheepishly, looking far less remorseful than she should. "But I am sorry you have to go through this part," she vows sincerely enough to appease Quinn. "And I love you very much for doing it. In fact, I'd kiss you in gratitude, but," she pauses, grimacing adorably, "you really need to brush your teeth first."
Quinn rolls her eyes. "Trust me. It's at the top of my to-do list. So help your pregnant wife off the floor," she demands, patting Rachel's leg.
"Yes, dear," Rachel agrees with a chuckle, kissing Quinn's cheek before she pushes herself up and holds out a hand for Quinn to gratefully accept. As soon as she's standing, Quinn presses a tentative hand to her stomach, glad to find it still cooperating with the change of position. Rachel instantly notices the action and frowns. "Are you okay?" she checks anxiously.
"Yeah," Quinn confirms with a smile, squeezing the hand that she's still holding onto. "Baby Berry seems fairly settled for the moment."
Rachel's lips quirk into a lopsided grin, looking completely smitten with the impromptu nickname as her gaze flits back down to Quinn's stomach once again. Quinn finds the look wonderfully endearing.
"I…um…I'll make you that toast while you freshen up," Rachel offers before turning for the door.
Quinn nods, but, "Try not to burn it."
Rachel pauses, turning back to Quinn with a disgruntled pout. "I can manage toast, Quinn. I haven't burned that in years." Quinn's eyebrow inches up in a silent challenge, and Rachel flushes. "Okay, a year," she amends testily, "but only because you distracted me when I was setting the temperature. I think I can manage it today."
Quinn laughs lightly, nodding at the memory. "I'm sure you can. Just…please don't put on any coffee," she begs, rubbing her stomach with a frown. She'd really like to avoid any more unhappy stomach incidents today.
Rachel smiles sympathetically. "How about some tea?" she asks.
"I think I might be able to handle that." At least, she hopes she is.
After brushing her teeth and rinsing with mouthwash, Quinn pads out to the kitchen, and Rachel happily makes good on her promise of a kiss now that Quinn is fresh and minty. She sighs in contentment as she settles down at the table to take her chances with the tea and toast—which is perfectly browned and left plain because Rachel wasn't sure if Quinn would be in the mood for any condiments. Quinn thinks it was a good decision by her wife and decides not to push her stomach with the jam.
A few hours later, Quinn is very glad to note that her meager breakfast seems to be cooperating by staying where it belongs. In fact, the only thing swirling in her stomach right now is anticipation at the thought of hearing her baby's heartbeat. A grin pulls at her lips as she finishes getting ready for their appointment, and she breezes out of the bedroom to see if Rachel is as excited as she is.
Rachel is perched on the very edge of the sofa with her knee bouncing as she plays with her wedding ring and worries her lower lip between her teeth. It's a familiar posture—one that hasn't always inspired a warm and fuzzy feeling of confidence in Quinn—but Rachel's eyes are bright and fastened expectantly on Quinn, and she looks more anxious than apprehensive, so Quinn dismisses this as normal (for Rachel) and continues to smile. "Ready to go?"
Rachel draws in a quick, sharp breath. "Yes. Absolutely," she answers in short, staccato bursts, springing up from the sofa. "We should go. I'll call a taxi," she announces, scrambling to dig her cellphone out from her purse.
Quinn chuckles at Rachel's obvious case of nerves. "Don't be silly. It's not that far, and we have plenty of time. The exercise will do us good." And maybe burn off some of Rachel's manic energy.
Rachel pauses with phone in hand, frowning. "Are you insane? It's the middle of winter."
"It hasn't snowed in a week, and it's supposed to be pretty mild today," Quinn reasons with a shrug, walking over to the closet to pull out their coats. She'd checked the weather this morning. It's supposed to be one of the nicer days this week—sunny and clear with a very low wind chill—and the clinic really is only a few blocks away.
"Mild?" Rachel echoes incredulously. "Thirty-six degrees is not mild, Quinn. It's cold."
"It's above freezing," Quinn argues with a playful smile, holding out Rachel's coat to her.
"And you're pregnant!"
"And therefore running about ten degrees hotter than normal," Quinn counters, rolling her eyes. She's definitely noticing the difference already. She'll be kicking off the blankets at night before long. "I'll be fine."
Rachel grabs her coat, still frowning at Quinn. "Can't you just humor me? I don't want to take any chances with your health. Or with Baby Berry," she adds, dropping her concerned gaze to Quinn's midriff.
And okay—Quinn melts a little at that. Damned hormones! Sighing, she presses a hand to her belly and attempts to stifle her indulgent smile. "You're going to be like this for the next eight months, aren't you?"
Rachel nods unabashedly. "It's my responsibility to make certain that you and our baby stay safe and healthy."
Quinn steps closer to her wife, leaning in to brush a kiss over her lips. "I love you, Rach," she murmurs, "and I love that you want to take care of me…of us," she amends tenderly, "so I'm going to let you have your way today, but honestly? You worry way too much," she chastises gently. "I've done this before. I know my limitations."
"But I've never done this before," Rachel reminds her. "And you don't know for certain that this pregnancy will be exactly like the first one. And really, Quinn?" she scoffs, her tone growing far more obstinate—and possibly a little bit crazed as she reminds Quinn, "You were performing complicated dance routines well into your eighth month, and Beth was born almost three weeks early because of it! I hardly think that can be considered knowing your limitations."
Quinn bites back her irritation at Rachel's accusation, because—yeah, maybe performing at Regionals wasn't exactly the wisest decision, but, "I was sixteen, Beth is perfect, and you didn't seem very worried about me performing at the time either."
"I wasn't in love with you then!" Rachel exclaims, flailing a hand through the air. "And in point of fact, Quinn, I absolutely was worried about you, but I didn't think you'd appreciate me expressing my concern since I thought you hated me at the time." Quinn frowns at the reminder. "Now that you love me, you'll simply have to deal with me worrying about you."
That's something that Quinn thinks she can do without any problems whatsoever. Having Rachel fuss over her and worry about her makes her feel so very loved—and okay, maybe Rachel's more obsessive antics might end up grating on her hormonal nerves now and then, but she'll take that over going through the ups and downs of a pregnancy all on her own every single time.
"And now that you love me, you'll have to deal with running out to get me a bacon cheeseburger in the middle of the night if I'm craving one," Quinn points out, smiling impishly. "After all, you want to take care of your pregnant wife, don't you?"
Rachel's eyes narrow. "I don't think enabling unhealthy eating habits with a dead pig and cow combo exactly counts as taking care of you or Baby Berry."
"Oh, it counts," Quinn assures her firmly, lifting a hand to pat her cheek. "Pregnancy cravings can be a real bitch…and so can I," she adds with a smirk. Puck had certainly told her that often enough, and even Mercedes had skated around that exact phrasing on one or two occasions in those last few months. "Now call the taxi before you make us late."
Gasping, Rachel glances at the phone in her hand with panicked eyes. "If you'd just let me do that to begin with," she grumbles, rushing to bring up the contact information for their favorite taxi service.
Quinn sighs again. "You know, we could have been there already if we'd walked."
"Or if you'd just let me call the taxi company without arguing," Rachel counters haughtily as she brings the phone up to her ear.
And yeah—Quinn expects they're going to end up clashing over their approaches to this pregnancy on more than one occasion in the coming months.
Twelve minutes later, the taxi arrives. Quinn barely resists the urge to point out that they'd had to stand outside to wait for it six minutes past when the dispatcher had estimated, so they'd effectively defeated the purpose of calling one to keep Quinn out of the cold weather. Once inside the car, the driver gets them to the clinic in less than ten minutes. It would have been five if a truck hadn't tied up one of the intersections. They really do live ridiculously close.
The weather outside is as perfectly mild as the forecaster had promised. In fact, it's so mild that Quinn is feeling a little hot under the collar when they finally enter the clinic exactly one minute late for their appointment.
"Sorry," Rachel mumbles contritely, flashing those big, brown eyes and a remorseful pout in an obvious ploy to smooth down Quinn's ruffled feathers.
It works.
"You're lucky you're so cute," Quinn tells her before checking in with Sandy, who greets them with a smile and asks them to have a seat.
They quickly claim their favorite loveseat in front of the fireplace, which is lit today thanks to the season, and Quinn makes sure to put Rachel closest to it. She really is feeling a little warm thanks to her pregnancy hormones. As soon as they sit down, Rachel reaches over to hold Quinn's hand, working their fingers together, and Quinn glances over at her with a soft smile.
"Excited?" she asks.
Rachel nods, squeezing Quinn's hand. "And a little bit scared," she confesses quietly, turning her eyes to Quinn almost apologetically. "I…I'll just feel better once Doctor Klein tells us everything looks okay."
Quinn can understand that. None of her blood tests have indicated any problems, but today is the first time they actually get to see that their baby is developing the way he or she should be—though it's still way too early to find out for sure whether they are, in fact, having a he or a she. Quinn finds that she's kind of enjoying the not-knowing for now. But she absolutely does want to know that her instincts are true and there aren't any potential problems with her pregnancy.
Soon enough, they're being called back into the exam room with its familiar padded table and ultrasound equipment, and the nurse—not Hayley today—gives Quinn the paper hospital gown and sheet to cover her lap before slipping out of the room to give Quinn her privacy. Contrary to what Rachel might think, Quinn never enjoys this part any better than Rachel had during the fertility treatment, and she much prefers the abdominal ultrasound that she'll be getting later on in her pregnancy, but it's really just a momentary discomfort that she has to deal with in order to achieve what she wants.
And what she wants is to see her baby and hear his or her heartbeat.
So she strips off her slacks and underwear, noticing the way Rachel chivalrously turns to occupy her eyes by reading the charts on the walls that detail the various stages of pregnancy. Quinn shakes her head at her wife. "You've seen all of this before," she points out with a laugh as she unbuttons her top.
"Well, obviously," Rachel allows, glancing back over her shoulder. "But clinical settings always feel like they require a little more…modesty, I suppose."
Quinn laughs again. "Rachel, sweetheart, I think modesty flew out the window for both of us back in September."
Rachel bites back a giggle as she turns to face Quinn again. "You're probably right," she agrees, watching Quinn pull on the gown. "I can tie that for you," she offers, stepping closer.
"Please," Quinn agrees, gratefully turning around to let Rachel tie the little plastic strings at the top of the gown.
Once she's moderately covered, Quinn settles down on the exam table, draping the small sheet over her lap. Rachel moves to stand beside her, and Quinn reaches over to take her hand, feeling her excitement build as they wait for Doctor Klein.
They don't have to wait very long. There's a soft knock on the door within five minutes to verify Quinn is ready, and then Doctor Klein is breezing into the room with a welcoming smile and greeting them both by name. "Are you ready to get a first look at baby?"
"Absolutely," Quinn answers immediately.
"Fabulous," Doctor Klein responds with a grin before she moves toward the ultrasound equipment.
Quinn giggles softly, having expected their doctor to utter that word at least once today, and she glances up at Rachel to see the knowing look on her wife's face. Rachel shakes her head slightly in silent mirth, but then her attention is arrested by Doctor Klein as she prepares the wand, and she frowns. "Doesn't Marsha need to be here for this?"
"Not today," Doctor Klein informs them. "I'm pretty handy with this machine myself, you know," she points out in amusement, glancing at Rachel. "I can show you my certification if you'd like," she jokes.
Quinn bites back her laughter, thinking that their doctor has probably learned enough about Rachel over the last several months to be prepared to produce it if she needs to.
"I don't think that will be necessary," Rachel concedes, seemingly mollified by their doctor's assurance.
It doesn't take long for Doctor Klein to be ready, and Quinn has to silently tell herself to relax as the wand is inserted—she really doesn't like this part. Their doctor makes a few adjustments to the monitor and then to the wand, and Quinn cringes against the very mild pressure she feels, but Doctor Klein has a fairly gently hand, even as her gaze is intently focused on the fuzzy, gray screen.
Quinn can feel the subtle movement of the wand inside of her, and with every second that passes in silence, she also feels Rachel's grip on her hand tighten. She can sense the tension radiating off of her wife, and she catches her lower lip between her teeth as she studies Doctor Klein's face, admittedly wishing the woman would give them some indication of what's happening.
And then she does, smiling softly as she tells them, "Your baby is looking fabulous."
Rachel's hand jerks inside her grasp as she stands at attention while Quinn's eyes are desperately squinting at the screen, trying to make sense of the various shades of gray and black on the monitor. She thinks this should be easier for her—she still has a copy of Beth's sonogram tucked away in an envelope, for heaven's sake! She should know exactly what she's looking for, but she'd been a little further along when she'd had her first ultrasound with Beth, and the image of her daughter had been a little more obvious than this one is right now.
"Is…is it that little dot on the left?" Rachel questions breathlessly.
Quinn frowns, searching for what Rachel is seeing as Doctor Klein turns to smiles at her. "You have a sharp eye," she compliments, and then she's lifting her free hand to point out a little bean-shaped blob of gray just at the edge of a black space and, "That's your baby," she confirms.
"Oh, Rach," Quinn whispers, finally seeing exactly what their doctor is pointing out. She squeezes Rachel's hand as tears of joy fill her eyes. "Look."
"I'm looking," Rachel murmurs in awe, her eyes never leaving the screen.
Doctor Klein smiles at them. "The gestational sac is formed here," she explains, indicating the black space surrounding the baby, "and it's positioned on the left side of the uterus, so we can definitely rule out an ectopic pregnancy at this point."
Quinn can't contain her own smile at the news, proving that all of her good feelings have been justified, and she quickly glances at Rachel to see the unbridled emotion on her wife's face—a beautiful mix of devotion and relief.
"That's the best news," Rachel manages to say through her own happy tears.
"Everything indicates a healthy pregnancy," Doctor Klein informs them. "This is the yolk sac," she continues, pointing out a little circle of gray that looks like it's attached to the baby. "And this is the fetal pole," she points at the bean again, "which will become the fetus. And," she pauses to click a few buttons on the keyboard and zoom in a bit on the image before pointing back to it, "if you look here, you can see the heartbeat."
Quinn's eyes are instantly riveted to the little flutter inside their baby. "Oh, look at it go," she whispers, falling even more in love with the little life inside of her.
"It's racing as fast as mine is," Rachel muses softly.
"That's perfectly normal at this stage of development," Doctor Klein assures them. "The heart rate should be between ninety and one hundred forty beats per minute. We'll get your baby's exact rate in a minute, but first, let me just take a quick measurement." She moves the cursor across the fetal pole, clicking on it, and, "Five point three millimeters. Exactly where baby should be right now," she relays with a grin.
Quinn laughs happily, glancing at Rachel. "I guess our baby didn't inherit your extra small stature."
"Funny," Rachel chides, but there's no bite to it. She's too enraptured with the image of their baby on the screen.
Doctor Klein seems amused by their banter, chuckling as she taps at the keyboard again. A message comes across the screen that says transmitting right before an audio graph appears and the speakers are instantly filled with a steady swooshing sound that has Quinn squeezing Rachel's hand with a quiet gasp.
"And there's baby's heartbeat," Doctor Klein announces needlessly. "A healthy one hundred eighteen beats per minute."
"I've never heard anything more beautiful in my life," Rachel whispers reverently.
"Neither have I," Quinn agrees. Hearing Beth's heartbeat for the first time is still right up there, but this baby—sharing this moment with Rachel—edges it out. "That's our baby," she murmurs proudly, feeling a sense of wonder overtake her. This pregnancy has been real to her from the moment of conception, but seeing their baby and hearing the heartbeat is the concrete proof that this is absolutely happening for them. "We're moms," she breathes as she turns to gaze at Rachel, immediately seeing her own wonder reflected back at her.
Rachel chokes out a watery laugh, nodding jerkily. "We're moms," she echoes, bending down to press a chaste kiss to Quinn's lips before her glistening brown eyes are pulled back to the monitor. A few moments pass with both of them captivated by the image of their baby while they listen to the soundtrack of a beautiful, perfect heartbeat.
"I'm going to go ahead and take the wand out now, Quinn," Doctor Klein eventually warns, "but I made a short recording of the sonogram, and Sandy will have that on a flash drive for you at the desk."
"Thank you," Quinn tells her gratefully.
"You're welcome," Doctor Klein says with a nod before she turns off the transmission, silencing their baby's heartbeat for the moment. Quinn feels the loss of that sound even while she's relieved to feel the pressure from the wand dissipate.
"You can go ahead and schedule your next checkup with Sandy on the way out," Doctor Klein tells Quinn as she cleans up the equipment. "At this point, we're mainly concerned with monitoring your progesterone levels, and we'll do another ultrasound in two weeks to double check baby's development, but I think you're right on track to be released back to your OBGYN next month."
Quinn smiles in relief. "No offense, but I'm really glad to hear that." She's so over the daily injections and weekly appointments that have been a part of their lives for the last three months.
Doctor Klein laughs. "Don't worry. We're used to our patients celebrating the fact that they don't need us anymore. It means we've done our job."
With that, she slips out of the room, leaving Quinn to get dressed, but before she can, Rachel is leaning down to kiss her again—lingering a little longer than she had earlier. Quinn isn't about to protest.
"I love you," Rachel whispers when she pulls back, gently laying a hand over Quinn's belly. "Thank you for carrying our baby."
"Oh, Rach," Quinn breathes, tears springing to her eyes again at the reverence in Rachel's voice. "You don't need to thank me for that." She's been wanting to start a family with Rachel for so long.
"No, I…I do," Rachel insists. "I know I was a little slow to embrace this at first…"
"That doesn't matter now," Quinn interrupts, not feeling a need to rehash the shaky start to their family planning.
"No, it...it matters," Rachel argues weakly. "My fear almost prevented us from having this, but seeing our baby on that monitor…hearing his heartbeat," she pauses, gazing at Quinn with such adoration that it nearly takes her breath away. "We did that, Quinn. We created a miracle together."
"We did," Quinn whispers, falling even more in love with her wife with just a few simple words. She reaches up to curl her hand around the back of Rachel's neck and drag her down for another kiss, using it to convey all of the love and devotion that's in her heart.
When they finally part, Rachel grins down at her. "You should probably get dressed now before someone comes looking for us and gets a free show."
Quinn chuckles. "And again, I doubt they'd be seeing anything they haven't already seen."
"But they don't need to be seeing any more of it than they already have," Rachel insists firmly, helping Quinn to sit up on the table. "And I really would like to get out of here and go home. We can cuddle up in bed and watch Baby Berry's sonogram on loop all day," she proposes, obviously already completely smitten with their son or daughter.
Quinn laughs, nodding her agreement. There's absolutely nothing she'd like more than to spend the day with her wife doing exactly that. "That sounds perfect."
And, in fact, it is.