"Bianca can go fuck herself."
I believe him. Maybe I shouldn't. Maybe I'm being naive. But I believe him.
We sit in comfortable silence for a while. Then Adrian reaches for the shampoo.
"What are you doing?" I ask.
"Taking care of you." He starts working the shampoo through my hair, his fingers massaging my scalp. "Relax."
I do. Because this—Adrian washing my hair, taking care of me without it being about sex or control—is new. Intimate in a different way.
"I'm scared," I admit quietly.
"Of what?"
"Everything. Labor. Being a mother. Keeping him safe." I close my eyes. "What if I'm not enough? What if I can't protect him from this world?"
His hands are gentle, thorough. "I'll protect him. Both of you. That's my job."
"But what if?—"
"No what ifs." He tips my head back, rinsing the shampoo.
"You make it sound simple."
"It's not. But we'll manage." He starts on the conditioner.
I turn slightly to look at him. "When did you get so optimistic?"
"I'm not optimistic. I'm determined." His eyes meet mine. "I refuse to lose you. Either of you. So we'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. To raise him right. To give him a better childhood than I had."
"That's a low bar."
"Then we'll exceed it." He kisses my shoulder. "Trust me."
"I do." And I mean it. Against all logic, against everything that should tell me not to, I trust him. "I want to see the nursery."
He pauses. "Now?"
"After the bath. I want to see what you've been planning."
Something shifts in his expression. "Okay."
After we're both clean and dried off, Adrian leads me down the hall to a room I've passed a dozen times but never entered.
"I've been waiting," he says, hand on the doorknob. "For you to be ready. For us to be ready."
I feel nervous, so I just nod.
He opens the door.
It's a nursery. It's filled with all the furniture we picked out, but in the corner, I see something different.
A beautiful, intricately carved crib.
"My great-great-great-grandfather hand-carved that crib. He brought it to New York when he came."
I run my hands over the wood, loving the intricate detail. I smile slightly at the sight of teeth marks and wonder which Nero baby left those.
