But, hey, maybe now I’ve got an excuse.
I need to tell Sam, though. He promised me he’d be home early tonight. I hope he’s able to follow through on that promise. I can’t keep this from him very much longer, but I also can’t blurt it out to him. It requires some nuance. While, yes, I know he wants kids, I suspect he’d like to wait a bit on those and to be married first. We don’t always get what we want.
We’ve been enjoying the engagement for several months now—so much so we haven’t planned a wedding. We’ve talked about what we’d do. A destination wedding is a possibility, but we can’t agree where we’d go, and he’s afraid Jesse wouldn’t be able to make it if we went that route. Jesse’s his best man, so we’re going to have to do something close.
At our home is another option. Having a ceremony on the deck or even on the dock by the lake was something he thought of. I like that idea, but winter is knocking on the proverbial door. It’s going to snow any day now.
All I know is I don’t want my parents to pay for it, so it needs to be modest. I don’t need a fancy dress or an over-the-top wedding. Intimate is the best word to describe my vision for our wedding. As long as our families are there, that’s all that matters.
I hear the garage door open and peek at the clock. “Three.” He made it home really early. “Sam?” I say the minute I hear the door open that leads from the garage to the kitchen.
“Hey, babe.” He smiles at me, but it’s a tired one.
“Tired?”
“Nah.” He smiles again. “Smells good.”
“Beef roast and potatoes.”
Ick.
“It won’t be ready for another hour. Can I get you a snack?”
June Cleaver, I am.
And I’m okay with it.
“I’ll grab something, babe.” He opens the fridge and pulls out the leftover charcuterie board I made this weekend. I’m getting pretty good at those especially when I make them myself. I put all of our favorite things on top, including cookies. “You want some?” I nod before I even think about it. He carries it over to the table, sets it down, and my stomach does a complete somersault. And not in a good way.
“Be right back.”
I race to the half bath near the hallway to our bedroom. Once inside, I release the water I drank a few minutes ago. Along with the cracker.
There’s a light tapping on the door. “You okay in there?”
“Fine.” I rinse my mouth out and glance into the mirror. I look terrible. I’ve got bags under my eyes, and I don’t remember if I brushed my hair today or not. From the looks of it, I’d say not.
When I open the door, Sam is there, concern showing all over his face. “You okay? You get sick in there?”
“Sam.” So much for making it special and easing him into it. I blurt, “I think I’m pregnant.”
“Yeah?” He smiles. Then, when I thought his smile could only be so big, it gets bigger. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Reaching for me, Sam picks me up, placing his arm beneath my knees. Carrying me over to the sofa, he sits down with me on his lap. Henry Miller appears from out of nowhere to join us. I run my fingers through his fur as Sam asks, “You sure?”
“I have an appointment with my doctor next week to be sure, sure. But, yes, I’ve taken several pregnancy tests. They were all positive.”
“Seriously? You sure?” Sam is beaming. Plus I think his eyes are getting sparkly.
“Sam, honey?”
When a tear slides out of his left eye, I wrap him up tight and hug him with everything I’ve got. “You’re happy?”
His voice sounds muffled thanks to the fact I’m practically suffocating him. “I’ve never been happier.”
Leaning back so he can breathe and so I can look into his eyes, I smile. “Me, too. We’re going to be the coolest parents.” I smirk. “Me especially.”
