Over the past year, I've come to view him in the same manner as my father. I wish they could’ve met. Their caring natures would’ve suited. Working with him has soothed away some of my misery over the past. The grief is always there, but it’s not as all-consuming as it once was.
“Why don’t you head home. They say the storm is gonna get worse tonight. Take some cinnamon loaves with you. I know Bloom has been craving them.” He jerks his finger towards the door. “And some logs too.”
“Do you have enough? I can chop more before I leave,” I offer.
James shakes his head.
“You’ve got me stocked for several winters, Rhydian. Go home. My daughter needs you. It shouldn’t be long now.”
Excitement makes my heart race.
“It shouldn’t be. Everything is all ready. It’s just a matter of waiting.” I slip on my coat hanging from a peg by the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow. If you need anything?—”
“I’ll be fine. You worry worse than her,” James chuckles. “Take tomorrow off. No one is coming to the bakery with this much snow on the ground.”
Nodding my farewell, I set off into the blustering wind.
Snowflakes cling to my eyelashes and hair. I curl in on myself and trudge through the icy ground. If it keeps coming down like this, we’ll be snowed in. While I’d love nothing more than to be trapped inside with my Bloom, it’s paramount we are able to receive guests.
Namely the healer.
Smoke billows from our chimney as light glows behind the snow-packed window panes. Kicking my boots against the door to shake the snow loose, I push open the door and let the warmth envelope me.
Bloom’s lavender scent invades my lungs.
Our little cottage has grown into a home. A small kitchen is off to the side. The scent of garlic and onions wafts from the pot simmering atop the stove. A sitting area made of my old furniture and a set of towering bookshelves laden with leather bound tomes make up the front room. The hearth snaps with a raging fire.
My heart crams into my throat as a familiar dark head turns towards me.
Bloom’s hazel eyes glitter like stars. Her beaming smile turns wider as she spies the package in my arm. Her pink tongue licks along her lower lip.
“Is that?—”
“Fresh from the oven.” I hold up the package. “Cinnamon bread. Your favorite.”
“You are too good to me.”
Bloom presses down on the couch as she makes to stand, but I race over to her. Settling her back amongst the array of pillows, she rolls her eyes.
“I’m pregnant. Not made of glass. I can stand, Rhy.”
“The healer said you should enjoy the remainder of your pregnancy from bed.”
Bloom sticks out her tongue.
“But the bed is so boring.” Her eyes gleam. “Unless you’re in it with me.”
I chuckle.
“Naughty. Is that any example to set for our child?”
I settle next to her on the seat. My hand falls to her round stomach. The wool gown she has on flows freely over her body. The pale gray is soft to the touch as I feel the press of our baby’s foot against my palm. I marvel at it the same way I did when it first happened.
Bloom smiles up at me, love shining in her eyes.
“He always comes awake when you’re near.”
“I can’t wait to meet him.”
