“I’m pregnant.”
The words burst out, stopping him mid-sentence.
He stares at me. “What?”
“I’m pregnant. With your baby. Eleven weeks.” I’m crying in earnest now. “That’s why I’ve been putting off contacting you. Because I knew I had to tell you but I was terrified you’d react like Mike did. Or that you’d only want to be involved out of obligation, not love, and I couldn’t… I can’t do that again.”
Calvin hasn’t moved. He’s standing there, frozen, staring at me like I’ve just told him the earth is flat.
“Say something,” I whisper.
“You’re—we’re—” He seems unable to form a complete sentence. Then suddenly he’s moving, closing the distance between us, his hands coming up to cup my face. “You’re pregnant?”
“Yes.”
“With my baby?”
“Yes.”
“We’re having a baby?”
“Yes, Calvin. We’re having a baby.”
His eyes are bright, almost manic. “I’m going to be a father?”
“If you want to be. If you?—”
He kisses me. Right there on the beach with the wind howling and Ella tugging on my pants and tears streaming down both our faces.
When he pulls back, he’s laughing.
“I was terrified of being a father,” he says, pressing his forehead to mine. “My whole life, I’ve been terrified I’d turn out like him. Cold. Controlling. More interested in molding a child than loving one. But Ella, she taught me I could be different.Youtaught me. And I want this. God, Georgia, I want this so much.”
“You do?”
“I can’t wait to start our family. To be a father. To build a life with you. All of it. Everything.” He pulls back to look at me seriously. “If you’ll have me. If you can forgive me. If you’re willing to take a chance on someone who’s broken but trying to heal.”
I’m crying too hard to speak, so I just nod.
“Is that a yes?” he asks, hope and fear warring in his expression.
“Yes,” I manage. “Yes, you idiot. Yes.”
He kisses me again, and this time Ella joins in, grabbing both our legs and shouting “Cav-cav! Mama!” with pure joy.
We’re laughing and crying and probably look insane to anyone who might be watching, but I don’t care.
Because Calvin came back. He learned. He grew. He chose us.
And we’re going to be a family.
EPILOGUE
CALVIN
The National Museum of Jumayah is packed.
I stand at the edge of the exhibition hall, watching people move through the space Georgia and I designed together. The lighting is perfect, soft enough to preserve the artifacts but bright enough to see every detail. The displays are arranged chronologically, telling the story of the lovers’ tomb from discovery through excavation to final analysis.
