Three years ago, I was a single mom cleaning up blood in an underground fighting ring, convinced I'd never have anything more than survival. That love and happiness and a real family were things that happened to other people.
And then Danny walked into my life. This enormous, terrifying man who protected me without being asked. Who let me take care of his wounds. Who told me his darkest secrets and didn't run when I told him mine.
Who gave me everything I never knew I needed.
"Hey." Danny appears beside me, sliding his arm around my waist. "You okay? You look like you're thinking hard about something."
"Just happy," I tell him. "Really, really happy."
"Yeah?" He pulls me closer, presses a kiss to my temple. "Me too. Never thought I could be this happy, you know? Never thought I'd have all this."
"You deserve it, Danny. You deserve all of it."
"So do you." His hand moves to rest on my stomach, and I freeze.
He doesn't know yet. I haven't told him yet. Was going to wait until after the party, until we were alone and the kids were asleep. But he's looking at me now with this expression—hopeful, questioning—and I realize he already suspects.
"Joanna?" His voice is barely a whisper.
I cover his hand with mine. Nod.
"Are you—" He can't even finish the question.
"Eight weeks," I whisper back. "I found out yesterday. Was going to tell you tonight."
Danny's eyes go wide. Then bright with tears. He pulls me into his arms, and I feel his whole body shaking.
"Another one," he breathes. "We're having another baby."
"We're having another baby," I confirm.
He kisses me then, deep and sweet and full of everything we are together. Everything we've built. When we break apart, we're both crying.
"I love you," he says. "God, Joanna, I love you so fucking much."
"I love you too. So much."
"Mama? Daddy? Why are you crying?" Daisy's suddenly there, looking concerned. "Are you sad?"
"No, sweetheart." I crouch down to her level, Danny doing the same. "We're happy. Sometimes people cry when they're really happy."
"Oh. Okay." She accepts this easily. Then: "Can I have another piece of cake?"
"After you eat some real food."
"But cake is real food!"
"Nice try." Danny ruffles her hair.
She runs off, and Danny helps me stand. His hand hasn't left my stomach.
“We're going to need a bigger place."
He's right. This apartment is already bursting at the seams with two kids and all their stuff. Three will be impossible.
"The bakery might have to wait a bit longer," I say.
"No way. We'll make it work. Both." He's got that determined look now. The one that means he's already planning, already figuring out how to give me everything I want. "I've been saving. Made some good money these past few years. We can afford a bigger place and the bakery startup costs."
