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“I’ll hold it up for you.”
Suddenly, after being excited about it all day, I’m scared to take the test. If it’s positive, will he be happy? Or did I make a flawed assumption and a terrible mistake?
“I have one ovary. I might not be able to get pregnant.”
“You only need one.”
I frown, taking the test from him and lifting my dress. He holds it while I pee on the stick. We have family and friends waiting for us. This isn’t how I imagined this happening.
He takes the stick from me while I wipe and flush the toilet. I can’t stop staring at it while I wash my hands.
“The best time to take the test is in the morning. I might have diluted hCG levels from?—”
“Scottie, it’s positive.” He holds it up for me to see as I dry my hands.
The two lines stare at me. I know how I feel. And it’s killing me to hold back my excitement. I have another chance at this. “Are you … disappointed? I didn’t know you wanted to wait.”
“Scottie,” he runs his fingers through his hair. “We’re going to have a baby!” His grin reaches his ears before he kisses me.
And if I wasn’t pregnant two seconds ago, I am after this kiss.
He squats and lifts my dress, hiding under it like a fort. “Hi, baby. I can’t wait to see you.” His hands grip my hips while he deposits kisses below my belly button.
I giggle. “Stop. She’s the size of a raspberry. I don’t think she can hear you yet.”
Koen paws at my dress, digging his way out, hair all mussed as he eyes me. “She?”
I shrug. “My sister has all girls.”
“Yes, but my sperm decide the sex of the baby.”
“Are you saying you don’t want a girl?”
“No.” He stands, backing me into the counter, hands on either side of me. “I’m saying he could be a boy. That’s all.” That grin of his is so contagious.
“We’re having a baby,” I whisper. “But I don’t want to tell anyone. Can we keep it a secret?”
“Yes, Mrs. Sikes, we can keep it a secret. After all, my grandpa will be told it’s a honeymoon baby, and we haven’t left for our honeymoon, so mum’s the word, Mommy.”
My arms wrap around his neck. “Let’s go celebrate. This dress was made for dancing.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
THERE ARE NEVER ENOUGH MIRACLES.
Price
Amelia woreher mother’s bridal gown. An ivory dress with a high lace neck. By all accounts, it was the ugliest thing either one of us had ever seen. The back of the dress had twenty-seven tiny buttons. Needless to say, we fucked like maniacs with the dress still on because we were both a little drunk, and I wasn’t allowed to tear off the buttons that seemed too big to fit through the tight holes.
Her mom died of colon cancer three weeks after our wedding.
The dress resides in a white box on a top shelf in our closet. Amelia hasn’t decided if she will pressure Astrid to wear it one day.
I vote no. Fuck sentimentality. Let the girl wear her own beautiful dress. I’d say with fewer buttons if I weren’t her father.
Not once since my diagnosis have we discussed her mother’s death. But I’ve thought about it. I’ve thought my wife doesn’t deserve to lose another person in her life to cancer.
“You’re awfully quiet,” she says while we watch the happy couple cut their small, two-tiered cake adorned with pink roses that look real.
