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She took my hand in hers, and I felt something strange. Not unlike the power I feel when Steve and I are together, but… different somehow.
“You already have his gift inside you,” she’d said knowingly. “Give him what he’ll value most. A wife and a family.” And that was that.
Everything I’d already suspected was confirmed for me and with a nun’s blessing to boot.
It should’ve been a walk in the park after that.
But with Steve’s proposal, then Christmas day. Then, the engagement announcement and the whirlwind of a wedding being planned in between, I could never find just the right moment.
I never got to give Steve his gift last Christmas. Not officially, anyway.
There’s been fittings and re-fittings of my gown.
Steve’s personal assistant Madison is taking charge as the unofficial appointed wedding planner, which only makes Steve shrug whenever I bring it up.
And now the big day has finally come and is drawing to an end.
Making it all feel like I only met Steve just a few days ago, not months.
The ceremony went off without a hitch, and we used the renovated cathedral in the hospital, with Dr. Sterling as priest and Sister O’Halloran as maid of honor.
Steve will deny it, but Madison was his best man, and the whole cathedral was packed with Steve’s business associates, staff, and patients from the hospital that wanted to share the special day with us.
Compared to a regular day in the life of Steve Carter, I guess it was fairly quiet, with a shared meal at the shelter for everyone instead of anything too fancy.
Steve deciding to gift extra funding and some real estate to the hospital’s outreach programs to help more people in need over having a million-dollar wedding suited me fine.
The one thing Steve has insisted on is a honeymoon.
“A proper break, no distractions. Just us.”
Again, no argument from me there.
He leaped at the idea of going to my old hometown. A middle of the road, on-the-way-to-nowhere place in the Northwest.
There’s a hotel there, but I suggested we rent one of the older farms for a week or two.
Places that have had to adapt or just plain old had gone broke now turned into short-term holiday spots for people who really want to get away from it all.
Steve let me pick the place, figuring I know the area better than anyone.
But the closer we get as he drives us both, the less familiar everything looks, especially in the dark.
The expensive car GPS saves the day, and after picking up the key from the letterbox, we’re another mile on a narrow dirt road that I guess is the driveway.
Still in my wedding gown and Steve in his custom-tailored tux, we must look a sight. Inching our way forward in the dark toward an equally dark farmhouse in the middle of nowhere.
Steve could have flown us anywhere in the world, but this is where he agreed we should spend the next two weeks without even seeing it first.
When we finally reach the front porch, he leaves the car running with headlights beaming onto the old farmhouse, telling me to stay put as he strides around to my side of the car to open the door for his new bride.
Lifting me as easily as ever to carry me across the threshold, I hear myself cry out in pain.
The sudden movement gives me just a moment of agony, but I knew nothing was really wrong.
I’ve been getting all sorts of things going on in my belly for months now.
“Jesus, Holly! What is it?” Steve asks, setting me down on an old rocking chair by the front door.
