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Then we’re having dinner here, and we’ve invited some of our friends to join us. Thea—who doesn't have any family nearby—Ben and Laila, Ian, and Grant. We’ll have eggnog and play board games and I think Ari has hopes for something happening between Ben and Thea.
And then tonight, when it’s just us again, I have one last special gift for Ari. The final, and hopefully best, part of the first of many Christmases together.
While Ari’s showering, I’m getting our breakfast together. The fruit is all cut, the pastries are piled on a dish, and the quiche is in the oven, bubbling nicely. When I shared my concern about ruining it, Ari patted me on the arm and said, “Just put it in at three-fifty, and I’ll be down before it’s done.”
But she is taking longer than I thought she would. It’s been half an hour, and when we don’t have to work, she’s usually done in much less time.
Worry slinks in, chilling me. What if Ari isn’t okay? What if it was too soon to have sex? Is she in pain? Could she have passed out in the shower?
Each thought adds another weight on my chest.What if Ari isn’t okay?
I need to check on her. Panic is bubbling up, fast and furious. Part of me knows I’m probably overreacting, that she’s fine, just messing with her hair or something—but the other part keeps whispering,what if she isn’t?
“Cash? Are you okay?”
All the air rushes out of my lungs in relief.
She’s fine. Dressed in jeans and a red sweater, hair slightly damp and draped over her shoulder, her eyes wide with concern.
“Yes, I’m fine.” I rush across the kitchen and sweep Ari into my arms, burying my face in her hair. “I was just—”
Ari tilts her head back, meeting my gaze. Her eyes fill with understanding. “You were worried I had a setback or something.”
“Maybe,” I admit. “I just worry about you.”
“I’m really okay, Cash.” She looks at me steadily. “You didn’t hurt me.”
I search her face, looking for any sign of pain. A slight wince from the bright lights of the kitchen, a tightening of her jaw, the tense set of her shoulders… I don’t see any of those, and my worry fades.
Except.
“You look pale.” Frowning, I inspect her again, looking for anything else out of the ordinary. I know Ari so well, I’m attuned to most of her little tells—the way her chin juts when she’s feeling stubborn, the little quirk of the right side of her mouth when she’s trying not to laugh.
There. That tiny line between her eyes. “You’re worried. What’s wrong?”
Surprise flickers in her eyes. “What? How?”
“I can tell.” Picking her up, I set her on the counter so her face is level with mine. “You didn’t have this”—I trace the little line—“when I left you in bed. So I know you’re worried about something. Tell me, please.”
Uncertainty darkens her eyes. After a silent pause, she says quietly, “I was going to wait until later.”
“Youaresick.”
“No. I swear I’m not.”
“Then what, sweetheart?” I cup her cheek, brushing my thumb across her soft skin. “Tell me. Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.”
Another pause, and my heart kicks into high gear.What’s wrong?
Ari sighs, resigned. “You know how I had to take antibiotics after I fell into the pond? Just in case I swallowed anything icky?”
“Yes?”
“Well.” She swallows hard. “With everything going on, and the stress, and…” Her forehead creases, her gaze dropping. “I didn’t mean to forget. But…”
“What, honey?” I’m going crazy here.
“I’m pregnant.”
