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I take a quick, hot shower after finally getting the baby to sleep. I don't know how my wife handles her alone all day long. She says she wants to be a stay-at-home mom for now, but man, Bethany has to be more work than a classroom full of kindergarteners.
I come out of the bathroom to find my wife dressed in a hot little turquoise nightie that gets me instantly hard. Until I see she's passed out.
I get her tucked in, removing all the decorative pillows she insists we need on the bed every day, when I see what looks like a flat pen tucked under one.
Holy shit. It's a pregnancy test.
I'm sure she meant to present it to me while...conscious. But I can't wait until morning, so I look.
It's positive.
Holy shit.
Is she happy? Excited? Resigned? I don't want to wake her up since she obviously needs all the sleep she can get.
Am I happy?
Her last pregnancy crosses my mind. The way she waddled. Her cravings. The feel of the baby kicking my hand. Holding Bethany for the first time.
Yeah. Yeah, I'm fucking stoked.
I can't believe I'm the same guy who didn't want a family. Or a wife. Or even a home. My girls are everything to me now. Life is crazy most of the time. But it's good crazy. It's damn good crazy.
My childhood was a mess—but that just means I try harder. Give my kid the stability I never had. Give my wife the love my mom was always looking for but was too drugged out to ever find.
I spoon around my wife and put my hand on her belly where our baby grows.
"I'll keep my promise, Cameron," I whisper, in case he's listening. "I'll take care of your baby sister until my last breath."
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BRILL HARPER IS A PSEUDONYM. Like...a secret identity. By day she’s Clark Kent, writing romance books for young adults and grownups. By night, she’s Brill Harper writing unfailingly filthy, yet super sweet books, that would make her alter ego blush.
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