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“I know.” A smile. A squeeze of her hand. “I was planning on waiting to give it to you on Christmas, but”—she leaned in, brushed her mouth over mine—“clearly that’s not going to work.”
It took me a minute to process her words—even as I didn’t understand them—but by the time I did, she was already hopping up and out of my lap, moving across the room, and disappearing out into the hall.
I shove my ass out of the chair, followed her, seeing her open the closet at the end of it, reach up on tiptoe for something on the top shelf.
“Let me,” I began. I was big and tall and excelled at reaching shit on top shelves.
And I needed to do something.
Because my intestines had tied themselves into knots.
“I’m good, baby,” she said, dropping back onto her heels, turning to face me as she closed the door. Her lips curved, and she walked back to me, hand coming to my chest again. “My fierce hockey player with the big, vulnerable heart. I’mokay.No, I’m perfect.We’reperfect.” She shoved the present into my hand. “Open it, baby.”
Another breath, but though I nodded, acknowledging her words, I couldn’t help but think that everything was about to change.
I studied the cheerful wrapping paper on the outside of the small rectangular box like it was going to give me a clue as to what was inside.
But it was just a print of skating penguins.
Cute. Like my woman. But not revealing secrets. Also, like my woman.
“Smitty.”
Right.
I needed to open the box.
I tore into the paper, tossing it aside, seeing that even with it gone, I still didn’t have a fucking clue what the contents of the present were.
“Almost there, baby,” she murmured, reaching toward me, grasping the lid and tugging it off.
For a second, I didn’t get it.
The big, dumb hockey player not understanding what the fuck all I was looking at.
Then I processed the white plastic stick.
The small screen embedded in it.
The word showing up in a font I struggled to read because the letters swam and moved and half showed up.
Pregnant.
My head whipped up. “Little bird,” I rasped.
She nibbled at her bottom lip again then nodded, eyes glassy, cheeks pink. “Yeah, baby,” she said, answering the question I didn’t even know I was asking. “I’m pregnant.”
For a second, I didn’t move, emotions rippling through me—happiness and fear, worry about how she was feeling, if I was going to be a good dad, but then I just felt…
Joy.
The fear went away. The worries banked.
I was sure they’d make a reappearance later.
But right then…
I came back to myself.
