For the next hour, I talk through design ideas for our nursery and Emma helps me get the master bedroom somewhat set up for me to stay in tonight. In the time it takes Tripp and Beck to get rid of the crib, Adam went ahead and fixed the wobbly step—which got me right in the mood again.
I can’t say I knew he had tools and was so handy and I can’t say I ever thought that would do it for me. It could just be because it’s Adam.
Everyone heads out after they get all the boxes in the right rooms, and as much as I love them, I’m a little too giddy to close the door the moment they walk out.
But when I spin around, I catch Adam trying to unload one of the boxes in the living room.
“No, no, no.” I wave my hands as I march up to him.
“What? Why?”
“We’re role-reversing right now. I’m demanding you quit working and relax with me until you have to leave.” I take him by the arm and start to drag him to the couch.
Surprisingly, I don’t get very far pulling my massive baby daddy on my own.
“Mia, I’m about to leave for another two weeks. I can’t leave unpacking up to you.”
“But you can. I’m perfectly capable of unboxing the majority of this stuff. Plus, my parents said they would come help, too.”
The muscles in his arms are so beyond tight, and he’s got that very serious look on his face that got me the first time I saw him. I know he hates leaving just as much as I do, but that’s exactly why I don’t want to spend another second unpacking.
I run my hands up to his shoulders, squeezing the tension the best I can. “Adam, please, come sit down with me. Even for twenty minutes and we can unpack more later if that will make you feel better.”
For a second, I’m not entirely sure he’ll relax enough to handle the twenty minutes, but in a blink of my eye I go from standing in front of him to being pulled into his arms. I tighten my grip on his neck and let out a little yelp as we fall back onto the couch.
“Better?” he asks, brushing my hair behind my ear.
I run my hands down his shoulders, noting the tension that already seems to be lessening. “Much better.”
Rolling to his side, I cuddle tightly up against him, and we both let out a deep breath.
“This house is beautiful, Mia.” Adam runs his hand through my hair. “Definitely worth getting married for.”
There’s my Adam. So very serious and yet so cheesy at the same time.
“I guess it’s time to tell you this was all part of my master plan,” I joke, and while Adam laughs…someone else finds it funny, too.
Okay, no sudden movements. I slowly reach for Adam’s hand and put it right where our little girl is kicking. “Do you feel that?”
“Yeah, I do,” Adam whispers. “Fuck, Mia, that’s incredible.”
Baby girl rolls again, and I’m not sure if I’m getting her elbow or a foot, but she really wants to move right now.
Adam leans down, placing a kiss on my stomach. “Hi, sweet girl, are you kicking your mama?”
Again, my hormones are not strong enough for this.
Adam chuckles as she kicks again. “Or are you trying to kick me off your mama?”
“I think she likes hearing her dad’s voice.”
Adam stills for a moment. Hearing himself referred to as Dad is still one he’s processing, but the smile he gets on his face once he relaxes into the title is always my favorite.
He places one more kiss on my stomach, then comes up and kisses my temple. “Come here.”
I wrap my arm and leg around him the best I can. Cuddling has gotten a little more difficult with my ever-growing bump, but I have to admit I’m really loving being pregnant.
Adam brushes his fingers through my hair. “You know, I was thinking…what about Foster? I know it was your grandfather’s name…but I think it could work for a girl.”
