I hand it to her.
She opens it, brows lifting as she pulls out the contents. Two plane tickets.
“Greece?” she breathes.
I nod. “Santorini. The quiet side. No crowds. Just you, me, and the sea.”
She laughs softly, eyes shining. “You’re impossible.”
“Do you like it?”
“I love it,” she says immediately. Then she hesitates.
I feel it before I see it.
“But,” she adds.
“But,” I echo.
She steps closer. Takes my hand. Guides it gently—intentionally—to her stomach.
“It might have to wait,” she whispers.
For a long second, everything inside me goes still.
Then it crashes all at once.
Joy. Shock. Awe. A fierce, overwhelming love that makes my chest ache.
I pull her into me without thinking, my mouth finding hers. The kiss is deep, unrestrained, full of everything I can’t say out loud. She melts into it, fingers fisting in my jacket.
“You’re sure?” I ask.
“Positive.” She laughs, a little breathless. “Eleven weeks. Something tells me it’ll be a boy this time.”
Boy. Girl. Doesn’t matter. All that matters to Amber is that our family will be growing bigger again.
“I love you,” I murmur against her lips.
“I know,” she says softly. “I love you too. So much.”
She rests her forehead against mine, breathing us in.
After a moment, she smiles—slow, playful. Dangerous.
“I want to thank you anyway. For the gift.”
My brow lifts. “Oh?”
She takes a step back, eyes never leaving mine. Then another.
And then she sinks to her knees.
“Amber,” I say, half-laughing, half-ruined.
She looks up at me, eyes bright, confident, absolutely certain of us. “Relax. I know what I’m doing.”
God help me, I know she does.
