Page 48 of My Only (My First, My Last)

I thought back to when we were just teenagers at Garvey High in Long Island—how I used to photograph him while he trained for his track meets, just because.

And now, here I was, photographing him again. Only this time, as my husband, while carrying his firstborn.

Life.

So damn beautiful.

“Would you just act natural?” I teased.

“I am .” He winked. “Just make sure you get me from the perfect angle.” He smiled, lowering his gaze to his sketchbook.

I inhaled a slow breath and let it out. My bottom lip quivered—until a soft smile eased it into place.

“My dad used to say something similar,” I murmured, loud enough for Hassani to hear. “ Make sure you capture me at the perfect angle .”

He smiled knowingly. “Great minds, huh?”

I nodded, echoing softly, “Great minds, indeed.”

Because this man had designed a summer home just for us—one of our forever homes—and now, we would be spending the entire summer in it.

The soft scratch of his pencil against the page filled the air, a familiar and comforting sound.

I smiled as he worked, knowing that whatever he was sketching would become my new favorite thing.

“Let me guess,” I mused. “You’re sketching something new for the villa?”

He smirked but didn’t answer right away. Instead, he lifted the sketchbook, tilting it just enough for me to see.

My breath caught.

It was a drawing... of me.

Sitting right here on the patio lounge chair, my round belly peeking out beneath my sundress.

Emotion swelled in my chest.

How silly I had been to assume he was always working when he was sketching in his book.

I remembered those first months of marriage, when we had just moved into our home and he’d spend hours sketching little projects for the house.

But once he started the Greene Gardens Project, I had figured the sketchbook became solely for work for that project.

I was so wrong.

Hassani has always been about us.

About his love for me.

About our future.

It was foolish to have ever thought otherwise.

Things had been so good since we returned from Saint Lucia.

And life got even better when we found out in January that we were expecting.

I was five months along now, and every day, I fell more and more in love with the life we were creating.

Hassani set his sketchbook down a moment later and made his way over to me.

When he arrived, he kneeled in front of me, pressing a gentle kiss against my belly.

I ran my fingers along the back of his head as he rested there, whispering something to our baby boy.

A second later… our baby kicked.

Hassani and I gasped at the same time.

His eyes shot up to mine, wide as ever.

“Did he just?—?”

“Kick?!” I nodded quickly. “Yes!”

His entire face lit up with pure joy, and my heart melted on the spot.

“Has he ever done that before?” he asked, his voice filled with awe.

I smiled through my tears. “No. This is the first time.”

Hassani let out a breathless laugh, his hand still resting over my belly.

“But from that kick,” I mused, “I can already tell he's gonna make good use of those legs… just like his dad.”

He chuckled. “And he’s gonna be just as mathematically accurate as his mother—‘cause he got me good just now.”

I giggled, wiping at my eyes.

“You know how I always bring up how I used to call you in the middle of the night back in high school?” I asked.

Hassani grinned, his thumb tracing soft circles over my belly.

“ Mm-hmm ,” he said. “And every time you bring it up, I remember how every time I saw your name on my phone, I knew I wasn’t getting any sleep that night.”

I smiled, brushing my fingers over his hand. “I think our son is going to be like me.”

He arched a brow. “What, you mean calling me at 2 a.m.?”

“No.” I laughed. “Keeping us up at all hours. You do know babies do that, right?”

Hassani groaned dramatically, shaking his head.

“See? I knew you two were gonna team up on me,” he joked.

I radiated with joy, loving how light things felt between us now. How easily we could laugh again.

Then, he leaned in, pressing his lips against my forehead, and whispered, “And I can’t wait. For every single moment of it.”

My chest tightened with love as he cupped my face, bringing his lips down to mine in a deep, slow kiss.

Taking his time.

Savoring.

Loving.

“I love you, A. Boogie,” he whispered against my lips.

I smiled, my heart bursting. “I love you, too, baby. So much.”

He pulled away just enough to smirk.

“Come on,” he said, standing up and holding his hand out for me to take. “It’s time for you two to eat... and me too.”

I laughed, letting him gently pull me to my feet.

As he led me inside, he pressed a soft kiss to my cheek.

I glanced back at my camera, sitting on the lounge chair, and smiled—excited to see what memories I could capture this summer.

Memories I would one day show to our son.

For now, I simply followed Hassani—the man of my dreams—into the home he created for us.

Our home.

Our summer dreams.

Life was so, so good. And I was beyond grateful it was all mine.

Mine… and mine only.

THE END.