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“Grayson….”
He sighs, heavily. “Fine. Jesus.” He turns his back to me, but not before rolling his eyes very dramatically. “Pee.”
As girly and carefully as I can, I sit down on the toilet and attempt to pee on the stick. Setting it on the counter, I hurry up and lift my shorts up. Yes, I wiped and flushed the toilet. After washing my hands, I stand in front of Grayson.
He shakes his head, smiling. “You’re something else.”
I slap my wet hands to his cheeks. “And you’re wet.”
His smile is wide, unfazed by the water on his cheeks. “Do you feel different?”
“We don’t know if it worked.”
Backing me up against the wall, he holds me there, his face inches from mine. “That just means we keep trying.”
“I know.” I search his eyes, looking for an emotion. I don’t even know which one I’m looking for. Maybe assurance. “When should we look.”
“It said two minutes.” He holds me hostage against the wall. “I can think of a few things we can do in those two minutes.”
“Mmmm.” I sigh into his lips when he presses his weight into mine. Twisting, he picks me up and sets me onto the counter beside the test deciding what our next nine months might bring. I resist the urge to look while Grayson works his mouth up the side of my neck.
And then he chuckles, shaking his head.
“What?”
He pulls back, my face in his hands. His eyes flash with that same emotion he did when he said I do. Crazy, undeterred love. “What does two pink lines mean?”
My heart jumps into my throat. “What?” I snap my eyes to his and then the test he picks up and holds between us. I grin so wide it hurts my cheeks. “Your swimmers work!”
There’s a distinct gleam in his eyes. “My swimmers work,” he whispers, his lips finding mine.
“They’re like rocket fuel.”
Sighing, he shakes his head, his lips tracing my jaw line. “I’ll never live that one down.”
Cradling me to his chest, his warm arms wrap around mywaist. I lean back to look at his serene, peaceful face and kiss him. “Nope. But… we’re havinga baby,” I squeal, unable to hold back my excitement any longer. I cling to his body, wrapping my legs and arms around him as tight as I can.
He doesn’t say anything more but his hold says enough. He clings to me and it’s exactly what I need, and completely different from the last time I saw two pink lines and the disappointment that held.
Always. Forever. This baby growing inside me is going to be loved by two people.
72
EVIE
9 MONTHS LATER
“You’re so much cuter than your cousin,” Grayson whispers to our baby girl, setting her car seat in the entry of our home. A house he built for us.
I look around the house, the fresh white paint and checkered gray and white country porch. He even built me a porch swing overlooking the field behind our home. “This doesn’t seem real.”
“What? Me holding a baby?” He side-eyes me, carefully cradling her to his chest as he closes the door behind us. The door? Handmade by him and his granddad for us. “Don’t worry. I won’t drop her.”
I smile, my eyes on the floors he milled down from the one-hundred-year-old white oak floors he salvaged from his grandparents’ barn they tore down over the spring. “I know you won’t.”
I set our hospital bags on the bench inside the entry way and kick off my sandals. My ring catches the sun and I smile.
Exactly one month to the day after we were married, I found out I was pregnant. And now, nine months later, two years from the date exactly that he nearly died, Grayson is holding our precious little girl, Taliyah Mae Gomez, in his arms, joking about dropping her.