Thomas's expression shifted. "Are you…"
"Yes." She felt her face break into a smile she couldn't contain. "We're expecting. In the spring."
For a moment, Thomas didn't move. Then his face crumpled, and he crossed the distance between them and pulled her into a hug; a real hug, tight and fierce and full of emotion.
"Your parents would be so happy," he said, his voice rough. "So genuinely happy."
"I know."
"A grandchild. I'm going to be a…..What am I, exactly? A great-uncle?"
"You're going to be a grandfather." Lydia pulled back to look at him. "You were my father since my parents died, what you've always been, even if we never called it that."
"Lydia…"
"I mean it. You raised me. You loved me. You're the only father I've ever known." She took his calloused hands in hers. "This child is going to grow up knowing their grandfather. The blacksmith who taught a duke how to make hooks."
Thomas laughed. "Terrible hooks. The worst I've ever seen."
"He's improving."
"Marginally." But Thomas was smiling now, his eyes bright with tears he would never admit to. "A baby. In the manor. That house hasn't heard a child's laughter in many years."
"It will soon. And we want you there for all of it. The birth, the christening, the first steps. Everything."
"I'm just a blacksmith."
"You're family. The only family I have left." Lydia squeezed his hands. "Please, Thomas. Say you'll be there."
He was quiet for a long moment. Then he nodded.
"I'll be there. For all of it."
The End
