When we finally broke apart, both breathless and trembling, I pressed my forehead against hers, savoring her warmth, her scent, the reality of her in my arms. "I love you," I breathed. "Stars, Ruby, I love you so much."
"I love you too," she said, laughing through tears that now spilled freely down her cheeks. "We're having a baby, Cristox. Another baby."
Another baby. The words hit me like a punch to the solar plexus, stealing my breath, making my vision swim with overwhelming emotion. I dropped to my knees in front of her, right there in the middle of her restaurant on opening night, uncaring of who watched, and placed both hands on her belly. Still flat, still unchanged to the eye, but I knew better now. Knew what was growing inside her, what miracle we'd created together.
The third bedroom would definitely be a nursery. I could already picture it—soft colors on the walls, maybe a pale green or gentle yellow, a crib by the window where the starlight could filter in, shelves for toys and books we'd read together, a comfortable chair where Ruby could nurse while I read stories aloud and Teddy sat at our feet relishing his job as a big brother.
And this time—this time, I would be there for everything.
I'd missed so much with Teddy. The pregnancy, the birth, those first precious months. I'd been absent for the sleepless nights, the first smiles, for tiny fingers wrapping around mine. That loss was a wound that would never fully heal, a constant reminder of what I'd lost, what had been stolen from us by circumstance and fate.
But this time would be different.
I'd be there when Ruby's belly swelled with our child, would feel every kick and roll, every hiccup and stretch, would press my ear against her skin and listen to the flutter of a new heartbeat. I'd attend every checkup, hold her hand through morning sickness, and rub her feet when they ached. I'd feel our baby move under my palm and know—really know—that I was part of this miracle from the very beginning. I'd hold her hand through the birth, be the first to hold our baby after she did,count tiny fingers and toes with wonder. I'd change diapers at 2 a.m., pace the floor during colicky nights, sing off-key lullabies until my voice was hoarse and the baby finally drifted off to sleep. I'd watch Teddy play with his brother or sister, watch them grow together, safe and happy and surrounded by love.
I'd be there for all of it. Every moment, every milestone, every messy, exhausting, beautiful second.
And I couldn't fucking wait.
