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She smiled against his mouth as he ran his hands along her sides, then over her sweet belly where she’d carried his babies.
And he knew she was keeping another secret. That she would tell him when she was sure, that it was early days yet. But he knew.
He estimated it would be about another seven months before they welcomed another member of the family. But Pascal was happy to take his time unwrapping her secrets, one after the next, until they were like the mountains he could feel out there in the dark. Standing sentry against the passage of time.
Love and hope, ageless and eternal.
Just as they would be to each other. Come what may.
“I love you,” Cecilia whispered as she moved against him.
“I love you,” he replied.
And it would grow and grow and grow, for the rest of their lives, and on into their children—bright as the light that turned back the night, gleaming on into always, just like Christmas.
