Page 27 of Dirty, Bruised Martini

As much I fucking hate admitting I was wrong, I guess it did help. But I don’t need it anymore. You’re back with me—physically, mentally, and emotionally. That’s all I’ll ever need.Youare all I ever need.

I think about our baby when I tell you you’re going to be a father.

I’m going to be a mother.

We’re going to be parents.

I never expected you to be so overwhelmed. I knew you’d be thrilled and thought you might caress my stomach with a reverent touch. Or sweep me up, deluging me with kisses and murmurs of elation. Or even make love to me with a frantic urgency I could barely stand.

When you dropped back down into your chair and just stared at me, I was as stunned as you were. Making me sob when you shook your head, swearing under your breath, and swiping at the tear sliding onto your cheek. The strongest man I know wasted from the news he’s been waiting too damn long to hear. Brought to his knees by the knowledge of his unborn child. Crying with joy for us, for our growing family.

Instead, it was me who ran to you. Unable to climb onto your lap fast enough as you dragged me closer and buried your face into my neck. Clutching me so tight I had to whisper for you to give me a bit of air.

That’s when you finally spoke too. Cupping my damp cheeks with your trembling fingers and thanking me over and over. I giggled and reminded you that you may have had a little something to do with it too. But you didn’t laugh. You weren’t in the mood for jokes. Not at all.

You kissed me. Wild. Frenzied. Worshipful.

I loved it. And, you. So much.

Then you took me. Right there in the quiet of my studio. Ripping off my dress and panties before guiding me to you. Huge hands roaming my body while I rode you. Stroking over the hips you worry won’t be wide enough to deliver your child. The pink nipples you’ll soon have to share for a while. The small of my back no longer marred by anyone or anything.

You let me control you and our love making. Letting me have you slow and deep and wonderful. Until your own need took over and you laid me out on the previously neatly folded backdrops. Admiring me for only a second before you plunged inside me again. Protecting both me and our baby within me with your restrained ferocity until you and I were both exhausted and happy and complete.

I think about myself when I look at both of you.

How damn lucky I am to even be here. To be alive. To be safe. To be the wife of the only man I love and the mother of the most beautiful little boy on this earth.

Enjoying how amazingly easy this first night home from the hospital has been. Which I know won’t last. That’s okay. I know we can handle anything together. Fussy nights and messy faces and dirty diapers. Toothless smiles and first words and wobbly steps. We’ve got a lifetime of adventures waiting for us as we navigate growing from two to three. I’m ready—more than ready—to experience them all with the both of you.

Right now, I should put my diary away and sleep too. Be as content and peaceful as you are with your small son snuggled into your huge chest. Protected with your long fingers curled around his back. Hopefully aware of how loved and wanted and blessed he is. How much we all are.

I guess this is my final entry in the daisy journal. Very surreal and almost bittersweet. But, now I have a baby book to fill out instead. Maybe even your Daddy will write it in too sometimes. Because he knows more than all of us how important it is to let go of the past, cherish the present, and believe in the dreams waiting in our future.

The End