But tonight, wrapped in my husband's arms, with my tools waiting in my new workshop and a vintage Winnie the Pooh book that saysI see you, I let myself believe.
Maybe this could work.
Maybe.
CHAPTER 21
Sera
The appointment is at ten.
I've been awake since six, too nervous to sleep. Not about the baby, the baby is fine. I can feel it. The nausea has finally passed, replaced by a constant, low-grade awareness of the life growing inside me.
No, I'm nervous about Adrian.
He's been different since our dinner three nights ago. He's had breakfast with me every morning. Asked about my work in the library. Sat with me in the evenings without his phone constantly buzzing.
It's almost normal.
Almost.
But today is different. Today we find out if we're having a boy or a girl, and though no one has said anything, I’m not stupid. I know that this type of things matters in this world.
A boy will be an heir. A girl will be…I’m actually not sure, but from the way Gemma sometimes looks, like she’s haunted, I’m not sure which I prefer.
The anxiety of the whole thing is taking a wonderful moment and making it much scarier, which seems to be par for the course in this family.
I'm standing in front of the mirror, trying to decide between two dresses, when there's a knock at the door.
"Come in."
Adrian enters, and I'm struck again by how different he looks when he’s not playing the mob heir. Today, he’s wearing black pants and a gray cashmere sweater. The color makes his eyes pop, and they look bluer than silver right now.
"You're not dressed," he observes.
"I can't decide what to wear. It feels like a big moment.”
I expect him to laugh at me, but instead, he crosses to the closet and studies the two options I’ve laid out.
"The blue one. It’s nice. The color brings out your eyes.” He hands me the dress. "We need to leave in twenty minutes."
"I'll be ready."
He lingers in the doorway, watching me. "Are you nervous?"
"A little."
"About the appointment?” A look of concern crosses his face. His brows knit together, and there’s a small crease between them. “Is something wrong?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so. All my appointments have gone well.”
“Then, what is it?”
I want to tell him it’s nothing, but we’ve been trying to work on things, and I know that means I need to be honest.
"What do you want?" I ask. "A boy or a girl?"
"I’d like a healthy child,” he says.
