“Ziggy?” he murmurs.
There it is.
There it is again.
A flutter.
Low in my belly.
Right about where Tater Tot is sitting.
“I think I just felt the baby move,” I whisper.
No.
No way.
It’s too early. I’m a first-time mom. I shouldn’t—but I can.
“Where?” His hand shifts to my stomach.
“I don’t think you can feel it yet, butoh my god.” I move his hand right over where I’m feeling the tiniest of bubbles popping inside me. “It’s right there.That’s the baby.”
It could be gas, but I don’t think it is.
I think it’s actually the baby.
I wait, but there aren’t more.
Still, my eyes are wet and I can’t stop smiling.
This.
A kind, gentle man cradling my belly while my baby kicks inside and our dog snoozes on the floor in front of us.
Family.
Home.
This is what I’ve been searching for.
“I should call my mom,” I whisper, grateful for once thatI should call Abby Noraisn’t an immediate next gut reaction.
He kisses my hair again, inhaling deeply against me. “I’ll be quiet.”
“I’ll tell her I heard you saved an old lady from a burning building.”
He chuckles, the reverberations of his chest against me almost as joy-inducing as feeling my baby kick for the first time.
I don’t want to move.
Not when I’m wrapped in love.
And I swear that’s what this is.
He wouldn’t put his career on the line for anything less.
Would he?
