She huffs out a quiet laugh. “That’s fair.”
I glance down at where her free hand rests on her stomach, more out of instinct than intention. It’s still early. Nothing to see yet. She’s nine weeks. And yet my chest tightens every time I remember it’s real.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” she murmurs, following my gaze.
“Good or bad?”
She thinks about it. “Good,” she says finally. “Terrifying, but good.”
“Same.”
I squeeze her hand. “I’m excited, Nat. About the baby. About… us.”
Her eyes flick up to mine, searching. “You don’t feel trapped?”
The question is quiet. Careful. Like she’s afraid of the answer.
“No,” I say without hesitation. “I feel like I finally know what I’m doing.”
She blinks, clearly not expecting that.
“I’ve spent years riding fast, fighting harder, and pretending tomorrow wasn’t a thing,” I continue. “Now I’m thinking about car seats and doctor appointments and fucking schools. It’s… grounding.”
Her throat works. “I keep waiting for you to wake up one morning and realize this is too much.”
I lean forward, resting my forearms on the table. “Hey. Look at me, darlin’.”
She does.
“I ain’t going nowhere,” I say. “Not because of the baby. Because of you.”
Her eyes shine, but she doesn’t look away this time.
“Okay,” she whispers.
We sit there for a moment, hands linked, letting the weight of the day settle in.
“The church paperwork came through,” she says after a bit.
“Yeah?” I keep my tone neutral, but I’m watching her closely.
“I signed everything,” she says. “Once it’s finalized, it’s done.”
“How do you feel about it?”
She shrugs, but it’s not dismissive. “Relieved. Mostly. It feels like closing a door that should’ve been shut a long time ago.”
I nod. “That money gives us options.”
She smiles faintly. “Like somewhere bigger.”
“Like somewhere bigger,” I agree. “This place was fine when it was just me and Rick.”
“And now?”
“And now I’ve got a woman and a kid on the way,” I say. “Feels like time to level up.”
She laughs softly. “You make it sound so simple.”
