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He placed the tests down on the counter, laced our fingers, and moved in closer. His forehead rested against mine as I closed my eyes. “Happy.” I felt tears against my cheeks, but they weren’t mine. Damian’s emotions were falling from his eyes as he held me closer. “So happy.”
As our eyes locked, I saw a moment of fear flash before him as he brought my hand to his lips and gently kissed my palm. “Happy or scared?” he asked.
My tears fell next. My heart was racing, but it wasn’t from fear—it was from hope. I should’ve been terrified. I should’ve been running to Grams, telling her about what happened. Crying because I was pregnant by a man who I hadn’t known a few months ago.
None of that happened.
I only felt, “Happy.”
He pulled me into a hug and held me so close. I lay my head against his chest, listening to the wildness of his heartbeats. I felt it, too. I felt his happiness.
30
Damian
A baby.
Our baby.
Stella was pregnant. My mind was still trying its hardest to wrap itself around the concept. It should’ve terrified me, but all I could think was that my life was finally changing for the better. I was going to have the one thing I always wanted—a family. Something that was mine, something I could touch, feel, and hold on to. If it were anyone else, I would’ve retreated, but with Stella?
She was all I ever wanted before I knew what I desired.
I held her in my arms that night as I soothed her nerves, rubbing her lower back.
Her big, brown eyes looked up at me, and every time they did, I fell under her spell. I didn’t believe in Maple’s tarot cards and sage shit, but I did believe that something about Stella held magic to it. Because every time I looked at her, I became hypnotized.
“I always wanted to be a father,” I whispered as my lips set inches away from hers.
“Yeah?” She held on to me as if she were afraid, I’d disappear if she let go.
Not going anywhere, Stella.
I nodded. “Yeah. Even when I was a kid. In some of the foster homes, I remembered watching how the husbands were with their own kids and how they were with me. I remember thinking, if I had the chance, I’d be better. I’d be more patient. More loving. More. It often seemed that the husbands just went along with fostering to get their wives to shut up about it. Some did it for the checks, though.”
“Did you ever stay with a good foster father figure?”
“Yes.” I nodded, thinking back. “His name was Peter. He and his wife, Sandy, were an older couple. I stayed with them for six months. I was around twelve years old and more jaded than any twelve-year-old should’ve been. But Peter taught me how to play basketball. He spent every night of those six months at the basketball court with me, helping me nail my dunking skills. He’d then take me out for ice cream each week and talk to me about life and stuff.”
“What’s one of the best things he’d ever told you?”
My brows knitted. “That I was good enough.”
“Did you believe him then?”
“No.”
“Do you believe him now?”
I smiled but didn’t reply, which seemed like a good enough response for her.
Stella’s hands landed against my face, and she pulled me closer to her, laying her lips against mine. Her forehead rested against mine. “More than enough, Damian.”
I sighed softly, feeling a wave of emotion push through my system. “More than enough?”
“More than,” she repeated.
My eyes closed as I held her close. “I’m scared I’ll mess him or her up. I’m scared that I won’t be good enough for them, for you. I’m scared that my past will mess this up for us.”
