“Together,” I sigh dreamily.
We both sweep our gazes toward the stick, and he stretches out his arm to pick it up. Our eyes stay locked to preserve this moment of just the two of us.
Then our gazes move down where a pregnant sign appears. His hand trembles on the stick, the widest smile stretching the corners of his mouth, emotions clear in his eyes.
They well up the longer he stares at the result. “I’m going to be a father.”
“Yes,cuore mio,” I murmur, elated by his potent reaction.
I wrap my arms around him, kissing the place where I feel his heart beating wildly.
My husband shows the rest of the world no emotion, but with me, he never hides them, making me feel I am the only one who truly knows him. Witnessing how emotional the joyous news made him triggers mine once again, and the smidgeon of fear vanishes.
And then the strategist side of my husband takes over, and he switches to planning mode.
“We need to schedule an appointment with the Ob-Gyn. Make the penthouse child-safe. We could move to the beach house for a while. Should we buy a new home?” he asks, rapid-firing questions, nervous perhaps for the first time in his life.
“We don’t need a new home just yet. And we still have months ahead of us.”
He plucks his phone from his pocket and makes a call. “Find me the best Ob-Gyn in New York. I want an appointment now.”
He hangs up, and I shake my head at him, but I know it’s how he functions.
Planning, making sure everything goes according to said plan. It’s helpful, as I am more spontaneous. Our differences complement each other. At the core, we share the same values and principles, wanting the same thing. Growing old together and being the best at what we do are the perfect examples.
It doesn’t take more than five minutes before his phone rings, and I see the tension easing from his features.
“Good.” He glances at his watch. “On our way.”
After we get confirmation that I am six weeks pregnant, my husband jots down every detail on his phone, and we walk out with the first sonogram of our baby.
“Can we go to the beach house and the farm?”
“You can’t ride,mo run, I’m sorry,” he says, his voice thick with emotion as if he loathes telling me no to something.
He will be an amazing father, just like he is the best husband. Never had a doubt, every gesture confirming it.
“I know, baby. I’ll be careful, okay? Please, don’t stress too much.” I don’t worry at all about my pregnancy, knowing stress is not good for me, but I worry about him.
I got him to sleep longer, but until things settle, he won’t rest as well anymore.
“I just want to be close to Altea. That house means so much to me.”
Sometimes I prefer going there to traveling the world. It has been amazing discovering bits of the globe with him, but no place resembles home. When he said he’ll show and give me the world, he didn’t mean it metaphorically.
Inside the car, he drives toward the beach house, and I open the window, inhaling the soft breeze before a surge of intense love overcomes me and I turn to him.
“You’re the best husband,cuore mio.”
“I am, aren’t I?”
I giggle, loving his confidence. “You’re going to be the best father as well.”
“If you say so.”
“I know so.”
His intense eyes bore into me. “I know just one thing. I’ll always do my best.”
