I nod. Try to, anyway.
Then I walk to him, slow and quiet.
He meets me halfway. Always does.
“What’s going on in that pretty head?” he asks, fingers brushing my cheek.
I hold out the towel.
He takes it, confused. Then unfolds it.
And stills.
His eyes find the test.
Then mine.
And the breath leaves his chest in one slow, wrecked exhale.
“Is that…?”
I nod again.
His hand covers his mouth for a second. Then he drops it, laughing softly. Shaking his head like he can’t quite believe it.
“You’re sure?”
“Three times sure,” I whisper. “And one very shocked pharmacist in town sure.”
He doesn’t say anything for a second.
Just pulls me into him, arms winding around my back, face burying into my neck.
“You’re gonna be a mama,” he murmurs, voice thick.
“And you’re gonna be the best dad,” I whisper back.
He pulls back just enough to look at me.
His eyes are wet. Mine are too.
“I thought I used up all the luck I had the day you married me,” he says. “Guess I had one more miracle coming.”
I laugh through the tears. “You proposed in a field, Knox. In a field. With a ring in your sock.”
“And you still said yes,” he grins. “Which makes me smarter than I look.”
We stand there a moment, holding each other, the dogs barking outside like they already know their kingdom is about to get bigger.
And I realize something.
This life…
It came from chaos. From danger. From a cracked-open heart and a reckless kind of hope.
But it’s mine now.
And his.
