She playfully slaps my chest. “Unfortunately, yes.”
“Then absolutely. Do tell.”
“I know I made a stink about you hiring movers, and insisting they pack for me. But knowing I don’t have to, and that’s one less stress I have to worry about…”
Gabi trails off and I just give her a smirk. “Just say it, Gabrielle. Say the words. Three little ones. So easy to say.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Keep talking like that and I won’t.”
I lean in and kiss the tip of her nose. “Yes you will. Just whisper them. I’ll love it even more.”
She gives me a mini eye roll before a reluctant smile. “You were right.”
I let my head fall back and pump my first in triumph. “Victory!”
“I really shouldn’t have said it.”
“Too late, gorgeous. It’s out in the world. No backsies.”
Gabi’s state of shock after leaving the realtor's office lasted until we walked into her apartment. Then she promptly started freaking out. She was pacing in circles, wondering how she was going to pack her apartment, run her shifts at the bakery, and finish training the baker she just hired. When I suggested hiring movers—the kind that packed your house for you—she immediately scoffed. She didn’t need them. She could do it on her own. She just had to figure out a schedule.
I said her name.
She said mine back.
I stepped into her space and pressed against her, letting her know I wasn’t budging. That I was going to do this for her. That in case she forgot, I just signed a multi-million-dollar contractand there was still money left over in the account even when the house check cleared.
Then I kissed her.
I won.
And I just won again by hearing her say those three little words.
“Say it again,” I whisper.
“I hate you.”
“Wrong three words.”
She lets out a groan. “You were right.”
“There we go. Was that so hard?”
She smiles and leans back into me as another couple is called back. While those three words are amazing to hear, so would another three. Yet, as much as I want to hear them, I’m not worried in the slightest that neither of us has said them out loud. I know we love each other. We show it to each other every day. Maybe five months ago I would’ve thought I’d need to hear it, but I don’t now. I love this woman. She loves me. And one day we’ll say it out loud. Until then, we’ll be here waiting to hear the most important word of the day—boy or girl.
“Gabi Devereaux.”
We follow a nurse back into an exam room and Gabi takes her position on the exam table. After the standard questions and checks, the nurse excuses herself, leaving us alone to wait for the doctor.
“You ready for this?”
I detect a little bit of uncertainty in her question. “I am. Are you?”
She nods, but I see her eyes swirling. “Gabi?”
“I’m fine,” she says with a shake of her head. Probably because she’s not fine.
“I don’t know why you’re lying to me right now.” I stand up and take her hand in mine. “Talk to me. Whatever you’re thinking or feeling, I’m here.”
