His arm tightens around me, his certainty a tangible thing between us.“With you?I’m ready for anything.”
And sitting there, in the quiet dawn of our first day as parents, I believe him completely.
* * *
I waketo the sound of Faith’s babbling through the baby monitor, a smile already forming on my lips before my eyes even open.One month home with us, and she’s already developed a morning routine, cheerful coos and gurgles around six a.m., as if she’s having an animated conversation with her stuffed animals before announcing she’s ready for breakfast.
“I’ll get her,” I tell Zach, who grunts in acknowledgment, his face still buried in the pillow.He was up with her for the two a.m.feeding, so it’s only fair.
The hallway is bathed in soft morning light as I make my way to the nursery.We’ve settled into a rhythm these past weeks, alternating night feedings, clinic hours adjusted to maximize time with Faith, and the club adapting around our new family reality.It hasn’t been easy, but it’s been the most rewarding challenge of my life.
“Good morning, sweet girl,” I say, pushing open the nursery door.“Ready for?—”
I stop short, my greeting dying on my lips.Faith is indeed awake, lying on her back in her crib, kicking her legs energetically.But she’s not wearing the pink pajamas I dressed her in last night.Instead, she’s in a tiny white t-shirt I’ve never seen before.
I step closer, curious about where this new outfit came from.As I lean over the crib, the words printed across the front of the shirt come into focus, and my heart skips several beats.
Will You Marry My Daddy?
I stare at the message, reading it over and over as if the words might change.My hands tremble slightly as I lift Faith into my arms, examining the shirt to confirm I’m not hallucinating after too many interrupted nights of sleep.
“Where did you get this?”I ask her softly, knowing she can’t answer but needing to say something to process the shock.
Faith gurgles happily, one tiny hand reaching up to pat my cheek.Her dark eyes, which have settled into a color remarkably similar to mine, gaze up at me with innocent delight.
“I see she delivered my message.”
I turn to find Zach leaning against the doorframe, watching us with an expression I’ve never seen before, nervous anticipation mixed with raw vulnerability.
“Zach?”My voice comes out as barely more than a whisper.
He pushes off from the doorframe and approaches us slowly, his eyes never leaving mine.When he reaches us, he gently takes Faith from my arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead before settling her against his shoulder.
“Wasn’t sure how to do this,” he admits, his voice rougher than usual.“Thought about restaurants, romantic getaways, all that traditional stuff.But then I realized…” He gestures around the nursery with his free hand.“…this is us.This is our life now.And I wanted her to be part of it.”
My heart pounds so hard I’m certain he must hear it.“Part of what?”
Instead of answering directly, he shifts Faith to one arm and reaches into his pocket with his free hand.When he opens his palm, a ring glints in the morning light.White gold with a simple diamond, elegant but sturdy enough for a doctor’s hands.
“We’ve done everything backward,” he says with a small smile.“Found each other through chaos, built a family before we even talked about forever.But I want forever, X.With you.With Faith.With whatever comes next for us.”
He doesn’t drop to one knee—can’t, with Faith in his arms—but the way he looks at me carries more weight than any traditional gesture could.
“Xavier Blane,” he says, his voice steady despite the emotion I can see in his eyes, “will you marry me?”
For a moment, I can’t speak, overwhelmed by the sight of the man I love holding our daughter, offering me the one thing I didn’t even know I was waiting for.
“Yes,” I finally manage, the word emerging as a half laugh, half sob.“Yes, of course yes.”
His smile breaks across his face like sunrise, relief and joy mingling in equal measure.He slides the ring onto my finger with surprising steadiness before pulling me close, creating a circle with Faith nestled between us.
“She helped pick it out,” he murmurs against my hair.“Had very strong opinions for someone who can’t talk yet.”
I laugh, pressing my face into his shoulder as I try to contain the emotions threatening to overflow.“I’m sure she did.”
Faith chooses that moment to let out a delighted squeal, her tiny hands patting both our cheeks as if congratulating us.The perfect timing makes us both laugh, the sound filling the nursery with a joy I never imagined possible a year ago.
“Your mom helped too,” Zach admits, pulling back slightly to look at me.
