Jay's POV

A crisp breeze blows Hailey's hair against her face and flattens her dress against her belly, which now has a full baby bump. She steps around the car and runs a hand over the evidence that our baby is growing. She doesn't realize it, but she's looking more beautiful than ever. I wish she could see herself through my eyes. So she could be blown away by how perfect her smile is, or by the adorable way the bridge of her nose scrunches and her eyes sparkle when she smiles.

"Nothing fits right." I hear her complain under her breath.

"You look great, babe," I assure her, though I know that's not what's bothering her. "What's up?"

Hailey bites back a sigh. "I'm starting to think that maybe this whole thing isn't a good idea."

"We can get right back in the car and go home. Your mom will understand," I say, but she remains quiet and continues to fuss with her dress. "Hails," I say trying to catch her attention but she still doesn't respond, "Hailey," I say again but this time I grab her shoulders. "Talk to me."

"Baby is kicking," she says softly, obviously deflecting. "Here…" She guides my hand over her belly to where she felt it kick. A moment later I feel a ripple under my hand, like a greeting. I felt the baby kick for the first time a week ago and it's been sort of mind-blowing every time. My fascination and sense of reverence will never diminish by repetition.

I feel another dull thump followed by a strong jab. "That's quiet sharp!"

She raises her eyebrow. "Tell me about it. The baby probably thinks this is a bad idea too."

Reaching for her hand, I enclose it within both of mine, wanting to offer her comfort. "It's okay if you are not ready. Just tell your mom you are feeling under the weather and reschedule lunch for another day." Hailey plops her forehead on my chest and I play with her hair, breathing in her scent. "There's no rush."

She tilts her head back so she can look up at me. "So, what you're telling me is that we should just go home, right?"

I run my hands up and down her arms. "Look, you know my dad and I weren't on the best terms while he was around, but If I could go back I would change that." Hailey continues to looks at me, considering, then nods. "Let's go inside?" I say, puffing my chest up. But in reality, I'm not sure if I'm ready to meet her parents either.

Meeting parents has a strange level of emotions attached to it, especially when relationships are strained. I'd be lying if I said I'm not nervous, but I want this for Hailey. Despite everything my dad did, if I was given the opportunity to reconcile with him, I would. In a heartbeat. Losing him so abruptly, left deep scars that I don't wish on my worst enemy.

We both take a deep breath and walk up to the front door. She rings the bell and moments later an older woman appears. She is short with graying hair and a big smile that reminds me of Hailey's. Almost instantly, tears flood the older woman's face. She quickly wipes her hand on her apron before pulling Hailey into a tight hug.

"Oh baby, look at you," she says, and pulls back with both hands resting on either side of Hailey's belly. "My first grandchild," she adds. "Somebody pinch me!"

The sound of her mother's words is Hailey's undoing. Pressing her index finger and thumb against the bridge of her nose, she takes steady breaths, forcing herself not to give in to the tears. She clears her throat and says, "Mom, this is my fiancé, Jay. Jay, this is my mom, Betsy."

Betsy wipes her eyes with the back of her hand and looks straight at me. "It's nice to meet you Jay."

"Pleasure is mine," I say, and without any warning, Betsy pulls me into a hug too.

"Come in, come in," she says. "Lunch is almost ready."

She leads us into the living room and the air feels strangely charged. Hailey's father, Frank, joins us and stands stiffly for a moment before he gives his daughter a clumsy sort of hug, made even more awkward by her belly. "You look like you swallowed a watermelon," he states.

Hailey runs a hand over her belly, "Sort of feels like I did."

I look between them and notice that Hailey looks a lot like him. I can see the same nose, eyes, and other common facial features.

"Dad, this is my fiancé, Jay."

We shake hands and I say, "It's nice to meet you, Sir."

He gives me a gruff nod, eyeing me up and down. "Betsy tells me you're an army boy."

"Yes," I answer, "Rangers."

He gives me a curt, unimpressed nod and shifts his attention to Betsy, who is moving about the room sort aimlessly. "Betsy, quit running in circles. You're making me dizzy," he says with a noticeable bite in his tone.

Betsy smiles weakly and before she can respond, Hailey pipes up. "Hey mom, how about I help you set the table."

"It's okay, baby. I got it."

Hailey insists and they exit together, leaving her father and I alone. There is a pin-drop silence in the living room for a few moments, but to my relief this is quickly remedied when Frank turns the television on. He reminds me of my father, a man full of misplaced anger and bitterness. But his tough-guy-act doesn't fool me. Beneath his harsh exterior I know is a man full of broken dreams.

We watch a full period of an old hockey game in silence before Hailey returns, eyes red and swollen around the edges, as if she'd been crying.

"lunch is ready," she announces.

I wrap my fingers around Hailey's elbow to hold her back. I study her expression, picking up all the clues I can find. "You okay?" I whisper.

"I'm fine," she sniffs. I give her a look of disbelief and she releases a deep breath. "I'm fine. I promise, okay?"

Reluctantly, I nod.

We sit around a wooden dining table just outside the living room. Betsy made a Greek dish that is essentially a lasagna. It's so good. This is comfort food to me. We eat mostly in silence, except for the occasional small talk between Hailey and her mom. Betsy keeps coercing Hailey to eat more, which I fully appreciate. I would endure awkward meals with the Uptons everyday if it meant Hailey would eat as much as she is right now.

"So Jay, Hailey tells me you're a detective too," Her mom states, trying to make pleasant small talk to ease the obvious tension.

"Yes," I answer, sipping my water. "We work in Intelligence together."

"Hailey, you're not still working, right? Isn't it dangerous?" her mom asks.

"I'm working behind a desk," Hailey explains. "Away from any danger."

Betsy lets out a small breath of relief, but is only half reassured. "But is it safe to work at the police station?"

"It's safe, mom. Probably one of the safest place in Chicago."

We continue eating in a sort of comfortable silence until Frank, who has been otherwise mute, decides to start up a conversation. "So when's the wedding?"

Hailey looks at me and smiles sweetly before turning to her father. "Jay and I have talked about it, and we want to wait until after the baby is born. Less stressful," she explains.

Frank mumbles something under his breath, and then says, "Bad planning, if you ask me."

I see Betsy cringe as Hailey chokes back the look of shock from her face.

Before anyone (Hailey) says anything they might regret, I pipe up, "Sure, we're doing things a bit out of order, but it's working for us." I take Hailey's hand in my own and squeeze it. "We are really happy and very excited for the baby."

Hailey gives me a weak smile, then directs her attention to her father. "Why can't you just be happy for us? So what we're not married?"

"Hailey, your dad is merely pointing out that—"

"You don't have to cover for him, mom."

"God has ordained the way things should go. It is marriage first then children," her father adds as if offhandedly, barely looking up from his plate.

Hailey scoffs. "People who live in glass houses, dad." She doesn't bother with the rest of the adage – shouldn't throw stones.

"What? I had my kids after I married your mother." He says defensively, even though Frank knows damn well that's not what Hailey is talking about.

"It doesn't matter," she says and rests a hand over her belly. "I came here try to make peace, but I should've known better."

"Don't be so dramatic," Frank says dismissively.

"Am I?" Despites Hailey's attempts to stay in control, her voice escalates slightly.

"Oh boy, here we go," Frank says.

"Is it dramatic to want my father to just be happy he is having a grandchild?"

"We're happy, but concerned," Frank says, but his declaration comes too late and falls short. "Parenthood is a big responsibility to shoulder alone."

"We just want what's best for you, dear. That's all," Betsy explain in a tone that I'm sure she hopes will ease the tension, but does the exact opposite.

A back and forth conversation about the hardships of single parenting continues as if I'm not in the room.

I clean my throat. "With all due respect, Mr. and Mrs. Upton," I interject. "Hailey's not doing anything alone. I love your daughter and I'm committed to spending a lifetime with her regardless if we have an official piece of paper or not. I know you don't know me well enough to trust my words when I say this, but," I turn to face Hailey and pat her knee under the table, "I can assure you she won't be shouldering anything alone. I'm here for the long-haul."

Betsy smiles, but Frank's expression remains stoic, "We'll see," he grunts.

Hailey takes the napkin from her lap, dabs her mouth, and places it on the table next to her plate. I can see livid anger boiling under Hailey's skin. Shit. Never did I envision things would spiral out of control so quickly.

"No you won't, dad. I can't possibly think of a good reason to bring my child here."

I can almost hear the sound Betsy's heart breaking.

"Mom, food was delicious, but Jay and I are going to head out."

"You're not staying?" Betsy asks, sounding completely disheartened, though I doubt it is because we're skipping dessert. "I made loukomades."

"Let her go, Betsy," Frank says sharply. "Just let her go! It's what she does."

"We can take the dessert to go," I offer, trying to smooth things out.

Betsy stands up and says, "Let me wrap them for you, then."

We leave their house and Hailey tries to not look completely distraught, but she is. Over the years I've learned that every human being, no matter how old, longs for a parent's approval – and Hailey isn't an exception. It breaks my heart to see her so disheartened, but I have no words to make this better, no way to take this pain away.

Hailey's POV

Darkness falls over the house, the light from the street filtering in through the crack in the curtains and creating shadows on the walls. The baby kicks and I grunt with the discomfort it causes. I can't lie on my stomach because of the size of my belly. When I sleep on my back, the baby is more active, which makes me restless. And when I'm on my side, my hips ache because they are already beginning to "open" to accommodate the need for extra living space for the growing baby.

I'm not sleeping tonight.

I don't want my tossing and turning to wake Jay, so I quietly climb out of bed and make my way downstairs. I grab the milk from the fridge and the box with my mom's loukomades. Instead of sitting, I stand over the kitchen island, looking over the patio, lost in thought, until footsteps sound behind me. I turn to see a handsome face with sleepy eyes filling my frame of vision.

"Can't sleep?" he asks, making his way towards me.

I nod, placing a hand on my belly to calm the active nugget there. It's almost like the baby is doing somersaults in my stomach worthy of an Olympic medal.

"The baby's kicking?" he asks already excited, placing his hand on my belly. Jay beams when he feels the movement of baby boy Halstead. Yes, it's a boy. I wanted to keep the gender a surprise, but Jay really wanted to find out, so I caved just so I could surprise him – haven't had the chance yet.

"Is that all that's keeping you awake?" he asks, knowingly.

"No," I tell him truthfully, but offer him nothing else. I'm not ready to talk about what transpired at my parent's house – I'm still so angry and hurt.

Jay smiles, looking into my eyes, as if reading my thoughts. "I know you have a lot going on in your mind. But I'm here whenever you want to talk about it."

He places his hand on my back, a tender, seductive touch, moving down to softly hold my waist. His body has an electric charge. He brings his lips to mine and kisses me – intense and intimate. Physically and emotionally my body craves for a release. "How about I give you a massage," he whispers against my lips. "To help you relax some."

My hero.

Back in our room, Jay grabs the massage oil and I sit on the side of bed clutching a pillow. After rubbing the oil between his hands to warm it, Jay glides his palm across my back. I sigh deeply as he begins rubbing my shoulder blades in slow steady circles.

"Have I told you how much I love you?" I murmur into the pillow.

"It's funny how you always say that when I'm giving you a massage," he teases, leaning down to playfully kiss my ear.

"What's funny is how your massages always lead to sex," I remind him.

"Yeah," he says, running his fingers up my sides, in a way that makes me shudder. "Funny thing."

He kisses a spot between my shoulder blades and kneads his thumbs into my muscles, spending a lot of time in the small of my back. Firm, almost too much, but just right. My arms loosen, my legs relax, and my eyes slip shut.

"That feels good," I murmur, feeling almost too languid to speak.

"I'm glad," he says softly.

Encouraged, he tugs at my shoulder and gently lays me down on my back. He takes the oil and drips down my chest and belly. His fingers then brush against the outer shell of my breasts, lingering a moment longer than necessary, then sweeps down to massage my legs.

"I know today was hard..." he says gently. I look in his eyes and see something I haven't seen in a while. Sadness – more than sadness, outright grief. "But I think you shouldn't give up on your parents just yet."

"What?" I tense, knowing he can feel it. "What are you talking about?"

His hands still. "Look, your father reminds me of my dad, and I think if you give him a chance, he might come around."

Oh, no, he is not going there. I push myself up indignantly and look into his eyes. "Do you know how many chances I've given him over the years?" Angry words pile up in my head, but I push them down. "There's no way I'm giving him a chance. Not anymore."

A deep breath of air fills Jay's lungs. "I just don't want you to make a rash decision you'll regret later."

I know my hormones are out of whack, but I might just explode. "A rash decision? I saw my mom be abused by that man my entire childhood, I will not allow him do the same to me or my child. I'm baffled that you'd even ask me that."

Jay shakes his head, his mouth firming into a line. "Look, that's not…" He pauses looking for the right words. "What I mean is–"

"—Please, don't make excuses for him."

"I'm not making excuses. It's just—"

"—What is it? Where is this coming from? Jay, we are talking about a repeat abuser who doesn't care about anyone but himself," I say and I can feel the shifts in my belly as the baby finds comfort in another position. "You should understand this better than anyone."

Jay stares at me for a moment before his eyes trail down. "I thought my dad didn't care. Like yours, he always made spiteful comments to me, to Will… Didn't approve when I enlisted and didn't bother going to my graduation from the police academy." He takes a deep breath, but his words remain gentle and tender. "But after he passed and we cleaned out his apartment, we found all these little mementos he had saved over the years, pictures, newspaper clippings…."

The vulnerability in his words abates my anger a little.

"All I'm saying is that despite every bad thing my dad did, I still regret pushing him away. I wish I could go back and change that." Our gazes meet and he half smiles. I almost can't bear to look at the pain in his eyes. "If you think can't do it for him, do it for your mom. You know she's a victim here."

His words cut through every inch of me, stripping me bare. Tears prick my eyes. He pulls me gently to him, while looking into my eyes, brushes back my hair, telling me, "I just want to spare you from having to deal with the guilt I carry. But I will support you on whatever you decide to do."

With the softness of a caress, he strokes his thumb against my lower lip pressing his own in the same spot. As his forehead rests against mine and our breaths mingle in the small space between us, I inhale him. This sweet man who continues to turn everything I know about life completely upside down.

"Think about it, okay?"

I nod. How can I not?

Thank you for reading. I wanted to devote a chapter to deal with Hailey's parents. After I wrote it debated whether to post it or not, but decided that it couldn't hurt. I hope everyone is safe and healthy out there. Cheers – D.