"Okay?"
“Jesus, Don, I feel like a broken record.” I laugh through my tears. "I'll let you finish painting because I'm exhausted and my back hurts and I really want to sit in that rocking chair."
He kisses me again. "Deal. But first—"
He disappears for a moment, then returns with another paint roller.
"What are you doing?"
"We're finishing this accent wall together." He hands me a roller. "This wall. Ourlives. All of it. Together."
I take the roller, and we turn back to the wall. And for the first time in weeks, I feel like I can breathe.
Minutes later, we’re standing barefoot in a half-painted nursery, hands smudged with color, hearts wide open and in love—and for the first time in my life, I’m not bracing for the moment it all falls apart.
I’m finally letting it hold.
We finish the accent wall together.
And somehow, without even realizing it, we start being a family.
Chapter twenty-three
~DONOVAN~
Saturday morning, one week after Emma and I painted the nursery together—I wake up with her in my arms.
Not in some metaphorical, romantic way.
Literally. Her body is draped across mine like a very pregnant, very warm blanket, one leg thrown over my hip, her face pressed against my chest, dark hair everywhere.
Sun filters through the bedroom windows, turning everything gold and soft. Outside, Central Park iswaking up—joggers and dog walkers and the city beginning its weekend rhythm.
Inside, it's just us.
Emma and me and the baby she's carrying. Our family.
It still makes my chest tight with the kind of fear that has nothing to do with work or deals or anything I can control.
But it also makes me feel more alive than I've felt in years.
Emma shifts, making a soft noise that's half-asleep, half-awake. Her hand moves across my chest, fingers spreading over my heart.
"Morning," I murmur into her hair.
"Mmph."
"That's not a word."
"It is now. I'm inventing new languages in my sleep." She doesn't open her eyes. "What time is it?"
"Eight-thirty."
"Ugh. Too early."
"We have the ultrasound at ten."
That gets her eyes open. They're hazel-green in the morning light, still sleepy but already focusing on me with that intelligence that first drew me in.
