“Of course.” There’s that sheepish expression again as he guides me to the end of the hall. “I know we agreed they’ll stay at your place most of the time, especially when they’re little. But I wanted to make sure they have their own place here, too.”
“That’s really sweet.” I try not to think beyond that. To the fact that my babies—these angels now stirring inside me—will sometimes sleep miles from my house.
It’s what Luke and I agreed on.
It’s what makes the most sense.
It’s how we’ll manage to keep a healthy separation between us.
So why does my chest ache like somebody’s standing on it?
“Here we go.” He lets go of my hand beside a closed door. “My bedroom is right over there, so I’ll hear them even without the baby monitor.”
“Nice and close.”
“Yeah,” he says, dragging a hand through his hair. “Look, I know it’s not as fancy as the one at your house. And it makes the most sense for them to be with you most of the time, especially with the breastfeeding and all. But my dad never made space for me in his life, and I guess I just wanted…” He trails off, glancing away. “Never mind.”
“Luke.” I put a hand on his arm. “You’re going to be an incredible father. The nursery’s incredible, too.”
He raises one sandy brow. “Pregnancy gives you the power to see through doors?”
“Shut up.” I whack him lightly in the chest with the back of my hand. “It’s incredible because you created it. You don’t do anything half-assed.”
“Thanks.” He grins. “Better get all the bad words out of the way now. There’s a strict no-cursing rule in place once you step through this door.”
“Noted.” I’m smiling as he slowly turns the knob.
Then my smile drops.
So does my jaw as my eyes fill with tears and I stare at the magical room he’s created.
The walls are painted pale pink, but not sugary pink like my handbag. Pink like the pale, lacy clouds draping over the sun as it settles to sleep in the sea. Over the top of that wispy-rose background, there’s a painted jungle of lush green vines. Dark branches twist toward the ceiling, where smiling forest creatures peek between leaves. There’s a monkey, a sloth, a pair of bright birds keeping watch over two handmade cribs made of whitewashed pine.
A mobile spins slowly above them with its own tiny zoo. There’s a zebra, a lion, and a plump little elephant, all twirling with clouds and more little leaves made of fuzzy green felt.
“Oh my God, Luke.” Drawing a hand to my mouth, I take it all in. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Thanks. Still got a few things to do.” Looking sheepish, he straightens a bin full of diapers. “I know it’s kinda small, but?—”
“It’s absolutely beautiful.” Turning a circle, I take it all in. The Diaper Genie in the corner and the family photos in rustic white frames. I laugh as my gaze lands on a sign that reads, Watch your language, a-hole. I’m a baby.
“In case anyone forgets.” Luke looks almost embarrassed. “Harper helped with the painting. And my mom and sister worked together on the mobile. It’s just like the one Amy has for their daughter’s room.”
“I can’t believe it.” I coast my hand over the top of an old wooden dresser. “It’s all so perfect.”
“That was mine when I was a boy.” He nods at the dresser I’m touching. “I picked it up at Mom’s place last weekend. Still need to sand off the paint and refinish it, but I think it’ll do the job.”
“I can’t imagine a place more perfect for the girls.” That includes my own nursery. I squint at a grainy photo framed above the dresser. “Is this you?”
“Yeah.” Luke chuckles. “Mom gave it to me. That’s my father’s prized Hot Wheels set behind me.”
“The toy cars you never got to play with.” I study the photo of a chubby blond toddler wearing a lopsided grin and a diaper. “Why are you holding a broom?”
He shrugs. “Dad said I couldn’t touch the Hot Wheels, but I could direct traffic. That was my prop.”
“You’re adorable.” Dragging my gaze off the photos, I survey the space. “This is amazing, Luke. Everything’s perfect. I can’t believe you did this.”
“Yeah, well… Your place is pretty great, too.”
