On a chair nearby is a baby blanket. Hand-knitted, soft blue, slightly faded with age.
And on the windowsill is a book. Small, leather-bound, well-worn.
"My Nona made the blanket," Adrian says quietly. "For me. When I was born. I kept it."
I move to the chair, pick up the blanket. It's soft. Loved. "It's beautiful."
"I know we picked out a crib, but I thought you might likesomething from my family, though I know that might bother you. The Nero... well... we are complex, but it's tradition to pass things down, especially from son to son."
"It doesn't bother me." I run my hand over the polished wood. "Your son deserves his legacy. The good parts of it."
"And the book." He picks it up, shows me. "Nursery rhymes. My Nona used to read them to me."
I take the book, flip through pages filled with Italian verses and faded illustrations. "These are perfect."
"I should have said something when we'd been shopping, but I wanted to have the crib inspected..."
My heart swells. "You've been thinking about this a lot."
"Of course I have. He's my son."
I look around, imagining. "I want the nursery to be soft and warm. Homey."
"What colors?"
"I used to think neutral. Silver maybe. Gray." I smile. "But if he has your eyes, we'll lose him in a silver room."
Adrian laughs. Actually laughs. "Fair point."
"Maybe blue. Soft blue. With white furniture. Nothing too babyish. Just... clean. Simple." I touch the walls reverently. "When he's older, he can decide what he wants to decorate it with."
"We can do that." He pulls me against him, hands on my belly. "We'll paint it next weekend. Together."
"You're going to help me paint?" I smirk. "Have you ever even painted?"
"I'm going to do whatever you need me to do." His lips find my neck. "How hard can it be?"
I close my eyes, letting myself feel this moment. This peace. This hope.
We're going to be okay. All three of us.
We're going to figure this out.
Together.
"What about names?" I ask. "We never settled on one."
"We have time."
"Not much."
"Enough." He turns me to face him. "What matters is that he's ours. That we protect him. That we give him everything we didn't have."
"Love," I say softly.
"Yes. Love." He kisses me. "And I do love you, Seraphina. In case I haven't made that clear."
"You've made it clear." I press my hand over his heart. "And I love you too."
