“You will need help, Katie. Motherhood can be overwhelming, especially for someone who has waited so long.”
At Sunday dinner, she touched my stomach without asking.
“I hope it is a boy,” she declared.
Owen’s sister, Tessa, glanced up. “Why does it matter?”
“Because this family needs an heir.”
Tessa rolled her eyes. “This is not a medieval kingdom.”
“It is about legacy,” Evelyn insisted. “Our family name, our bloodline, our traditions.”
I removed her hand from my stomach.
“My baby is not an heir. He or she is a child.”
Evelyn’s smile tightened.
“Of course.”
When Owen and I planned a small backyard gender reveal, Evelyn took over.
She ordered decorations, hired a photographer, and invited relatives I barely knew.
“It is our announcement,” I protested.
“And I am helping.”
“No, Evelyn. You are taking control.”
She turned to Owen, her eyes filling with tears.
“I suppose my excitement is a burden now.”
“Mom, Katie wants it to feel personal,” he said.
“I waited years for this too.”
The words struck me.
“You waited?”
She sniffed. “You know what I mean.”
I did.
She believed my pregnancy belonged to her because she had spent years judging me for not producing it sooner.
On the morning of the reveal, I stood before the mirror in a white dress that curved over my stomach.
Owen came up behind me.
“You look beautiful.”
I met his eyes in the mirror.
“Promise me something. If your mother makes this about her, stop her. Please.”
“I will.”
“Do not tell me she is just excited.”
“I won’t.”
“I need you beside me today.”
“You have me.”
Nearly 30 people were already gathered when we arrived.
Blue and pink balloons covered the fence.
A camera stood near the patio, and several guests were filming with their phones.
Evelyn approached in a pale blue dress.
“So much for neutrality,” Tessa muttered.
Evelyn hugged Owen first.
Then, she gave me a careful embrace that did not disturb her hair.
“I know it is a boy,” she announced.
“You have a 50 percent chance of being right,” Owen replied.
“No. A mother knows.”
I almost reminded her that I was the mother.
Instead, I joined Owen beside the large cannon in the center of the yard.
The countdown began.
“Ten!”
Owen took my hand.
“Nine!”
My heart pounded.
“Eight!”
I remembered the appointments, the grief, and the mornings when getting out of bed had seemed impossible.
“Three!”
Owen squeezed my fingers.
“Two!”
I held my breath.
“One!”
The cannon exploded.
Blue powder burst into the air, and confetti rained around us.
“We are having a boy!” Owen shouted.
I gasped and turned to embrace him.
Instead, a sharp shoulder slammed into my ribs.
I stumbled sideways, protecting my stomach with one hand.
Evelyn had shoved me out of the way.
She wrapped herself around Owen and sobbed loudly.
“My boy is having a boy! My son’s heir! The sacred family legacy will continue!”
Everyone cheered.
The cameras kept rolling.