I never thought happiness could feel quiet.
Warm.
Steady.
Like a heartbeat I can trust.
But here I am—six months pregnant, wearing a flowing navy dress that forgives every curve and new swell of my body, sitting in the front row of a small, intimate TV studio where my husband is about to perform his first live unplugged set in years.
And I’m glowing.
Literally glowing, if Bella is to be believed.
“You look so pretty, Aunt Ad,” she whispers beside me, scooting close.
She’s practically vibrating with excitement, her new blue streaks tucked behind her ears and her Nathan Thorn VIP pass hanging from a lanyard like she’s staff.
I smooth my hand over her hair.“Thank you, sweetheart.Are you excited?”
She nods so vigorously I’m surprised her head stays on.“Are you kidding?This is so cool!And the baby is kicking again, right?That means they like the energy in here.”
I laugh softly because yes—the tiny flutter low in my belly is unmistakable.
“They love their daddy’s music,” I say.
Bella beams.“Just like us.”
The studio lights dim.
The audience quiets.
And my heart expands to fill the entire room when Nathan steps into the soft amber glow of the stage.
God, he looks good.
Jeans, boots, a charcoal Henley that hugs his arms in the most sinful way, and his guitar slung low like it chose him.His hair is a little longer now, his scruff a little thicker, his smile—still the same one that ruined me at seventeen.
Only now it’s mine.
All mine.
He finds me instantly, like there’s no one else in the room.His eyes soften.Warm.Full.
Love, unfiltered.
Bella grabs my arm.“He’s looking at you!”she stage-whispers.
“I know,” I breathe.
Because he always looks at me like that.
He sits on the stool, adjusts the mic, and taps the guitar lightly.The soundboard tech gives him the thumbs-up.
Then, in that low, intimate voice that once played through arenas and now plays through the quiet of our home, he says:
“This first song is for my wife.”
My breath catches.
