As I drift off to sleep, new thoughts take root in my mind.
You don’t have to do this on your own.
You are a good mom.
For every hard day, there will be a thousand beautiful ones.
You love a wonderful man, and he loves you right back.
Chapter 52
Jack
Eleven Months
The sun creeping through the curtains I forgot to close last night wakes me up several hours before I want it to.
I crawled into bed last night after getting off a late shift, exceedingly thankful that Abby sleeps like a rock and didn't wake up even when I accidentally knocked over every bottle on the bathroom counter while getting ready for bed.
Her arm rests across my abdomen from where she made her way over to me sometime in the night. I can feel her soft, steady exhales on the bare skin between my shoulder blades, a subtle but meaningful reminder that I've spent the last month waking up next to the love of my life.
I don't think this will ever stop feeling monumental.
I try to shift as slowly as possible, but when I turn over onto my other side, I find bleary but stunning green eyes looking right into mine.
"Good morning, handsome," she mumbles, snuggling closer to me and holding me tight. "What time did you get home last night?"
"Late," I say softly, brushing her unruly curls out of her face. "I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep, pretty girl."
"No," she whines. "I missed you. I want a few minutes with just you before Erin gets up."
"Anything you want," I say. I love our life, but now that Erin is increasingly on the move, our days are hectic and spent on high alert. You baby proof to the best of your ability, but it's amazing what an eleven-month-old can get herself into. These quiet morning moments, where the entire world consists of the two of us in this bed—they almost feel like something holy.
"Can I ask you something?" she says quietly.
"What's up?"
"When do you think we should like, tell people?" she says, blinking up at me, her eyes full of anxiety. "Obviously our friends know, but I haven't told my dad or brother yet. Have you talked to Granny?"
"Not officially, no," I say. "I had a conversation with her about having a conversation withyoueventually, but I haven't told her where things are now. I wanted to follow your lead there."
"I love being in this happy bubble with you," she murmurs. "But we can't keep it up forever. And I don't want you to feel like I'm keeping you a secret."
"I don't feel that way," I reassure her. "But I know this is complicated, and people will have opinions, and it's okay not to want to delve into that yet."
"I don't know if this makes me a bad person," she says in a small voice. "But I'm really dreading telling Alan and Andrea. I'm scared of what they'll say."
I didn't tell her about my conversation with the Thompsons—not because I'm hiding anything, but because I didn't want her to feel any pressure. I needed to talk aboutmyfeelings as a whole, about Abby, about Aaron, about everything. That moment wasfor me, and I want her to have her own moment without feeling like there's any expectation placed on her.
"I don't think you need to worry about, pretty girl," I murmur. "They love you, and want the best for you. I doubt they'll have anything bad to say about you choosing to walk through this life with someone. I think you should have that conversation soon, I think you'll feel a lot better once you do."
"You're probably right," she says, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. "I'll go over there this week. Even if it does go poorly—"
"It won't."
"But if itdoes," she emphasizes. "It'll be better to know either way rather than make myself sick with the anticipation of it."
"That's the last thing I want for you," I say. "But I promise, you really have nothing to worry about. Not with anyone we're close to."
