She rolls her eyes, but her smile softens. And I know that look. The one she gets when she’s feeling all gooey inside but trying to act unimpressed.
I bend down and kiss her slow, lazy, content. A kiss that says we survived the storms and now we’re here, in the after. A kiss that tastes like lavender lemonade and the rest of my life.
I pull back just enough to whisper, “I’m glad I decided to stay here. Silver Peak’s a dream I didn’t know I had,” I say. “And you, this, our kids? That’s the dream come true.”
She opens her mouth to say something, probably something sappy I’ll tease her about later.
And then she freezes.
“Uh… Knox?”
The way she says my name? My heart drops into my shoes.
“What? What’s wrong?”
She slowly looks down.
I follow her gaze.
A trickle is spreading beneath her.
For a second, my brain tries to rationalize it. Maybe she spilled her water bottle. Maybe the ice melted. Maybe…
Her wide eyes flick to mine.
“My water broke,” she says, too calmly. “I think my water just broke.”
Silence.
“Shit.” I shoot upright, spinning in a full circle for absolutely no reason. “Okay. Okay, it’s happening. It’s go time. We have a plan. Where’s the plan? Did we make a plan?”
She laughs and winces at the same time. “We made five plans. None of them involved you spinning in circles like a malfunctioning Roomba.”
“Right. Right. Okay.” I fumble for my phone, only to realize I left it charging in the office. “I’ll get the bag. The bag’s packed. The car’s gassed. I just need to... do all the things.”
“Knox.”
I stop mid-flail.
She reaches for my hand. “You’re doing great.”
I stare at her, nine months and change pregnant, soaked, probably contracting, smiling like she trusts me with the world.
I exhale, chest tight with love and panic and awe.
“I’ve caught touchdowns in front of seventy thousand people,” I whisper. “But nothing’s ever made me this nervous.”
She squeezes my hand. “You’re about to catch something way more important.”
I blink.
Then blink again.
“Oh no, don’t say ‘catch.’ I’m not ready to catch anything!”
She cackles.
I scoop her into my arms anyway, because I might be panicking, but I’m still me. And carrying her out of the restaurant bridal-style feels like the only move that makes sense right now.
