Page 40 of The Unexpected Lineup (Lost in Translation #2)

I HAPPEN TO LOVE YOUR ROUNDING BELLY

HAISLEY

M y dad was given the green light to go home today after a week at the hospital. The doctors still want him to come in and do additional testing later, but he can return to his everyday life. Well, almost. It’s still undecided how his work is going to continue from here. But one step at a time.

Once Rasmus heard the news, he offered to pick me up. And I couldn’t be more grateful. He keeps showing up without me having to ask, and I love that about him.

The second I settle into the passenger seat my body feels heavy, weighed down by exhaustion. I lean against the window, ready for a snooze when I realize we’re not going to his place.

I blink, checking my surroundings in confusion. “Ras, where are we going?”

He doesn’t answer right away, keeping his focus on the road. And then I realize where we are. We’re heading to my place.

I whip my head toward him. “We’re not going to your loft?”

“No, Haisley. We’re going home. ”

Home .

The words hit harder than expected. For a few weeks, I’ve been living in his space, telling myself it was temporary. That I shouldn’t get too comfortable. That I wasn’t ready. But spotting the familiar brownstone, my home of more than fifteen years, I realize home is now where he is. Not here.

Rasmus steps out of the truck and moves to my side. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs and unbuckles my seatbelt carefully.

I slowly walk up the steps outside my house, thinking about the last time I was here. The night of my fall. As if he senses my inner turmoil, Rasmus offers his hand, and we walk to the front door hand-in-hand.

The inside smells like home, with something new lingering in the air. Is that paint?

My gaze flickers toward him. “What did you…?”

“You’ll see,” he says, looking at the stairs and then at me. I don’t argue when he lifts and carries me up. I loop my arms around his neck, pressing my face into his shoulder.

We go straight to the empty guest room, and the smell of fresh paint gets stronger. He pushes the door open and sets me down gently, and I gasp at what I’m seeing.

A beautiful crib stands against the gray wall on one side, and next to it, a comfortable-looking rocking chair awaits to be used. There’s also a matching dresser and changing table, but not much else. The space isn’t cluttered with decor, and I love everything about it.

On a small shelf by the crib, two little plush toys—a pink elephant and a colorful octopus—sit side-by-side .

I press a hand to my mouth to prevent giggling that could become sobs. “Ras.”

“Felix picked those,” he explains, mistaking my reaction for something else. “He said the octopus looked funny, and the elephant reminded him of his childhood or something.”

I look around in awe, a hand on my heart, eyes wide. I’m completely besotted.

“I figured you could decide how you want the rest of it to look. But I wanted to show you how much I care about you and your happiness. If you’re the most comfortable here, then this is where you stay.”

The first tear falls down my face at his sweet gesture.

Every detail has been thoughtfully planned.

I love how he picked a perfect set for the crib and other matching furniture.

How there’s a rocking chair in the corner as we both loved reading growing up and will read to our baby.

And how he listened to me about the paint color.

“Hey, don’t cry,” he wraps his arms around me.

I let out a watery laugh. “I can’t help it. It’s the damn hormones. And this is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

He strokes my back. “I want you to be happy, sweetness. And for our son to have a space that already feels like home when he arrives. If that’s here, then we make it work.”

“What if I want you to live with us?”

He stills. His breath catches as if he wasn’t expecting that. His eyes widen, blinking rapidly, and then he lets out a shaky laugh that’s more emotion than humor. “You do?”

When I nod, his face crumples. Tears spring to his eyes before he can stop them. He brushes at them uselessly with the back of his hand.

“I would love nothing more than to live with you and him,” he chokes out, pulling me into his arms like he never wants to let go.

“Hearing you say those words makes it real. We’re having a little boy to love.”

“It’s real.” He brushes my hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering against my jaw. “And I can’t wait until he arrives this summer.”

After drying his tears, he grabs a little gift bag from behind the changing table, holding it out with a sheepish smile. “I was going to wait to give this, but it’s the perfect gift to celebrate this moment.”

Curiosity bubbles in my chest as I take it from his hands. Nestled inside, surrounded by crinkled baby blue tissue paper, is a ceramic mug. I lift it out, and the second I read the words printed across the front in a script font, laughter bursts free from my throat.

Growing a pair.

I shake my head, grinning so wide my cheeks ache. “You didn’t.”

“Oh, I did,” he says, chuckling, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Figured it was only right.”

I trace the words with my thumb. “It’s perfect. I can’t believe you remembered.”

He leans in, brushing a kiss to my temple. “Just a little something to make you smile on the hard days. And a reminder that I’m all in, sweetness. For you. For him. For all of this. ”

“I don’t think I’ve said it enough, but thank you, Ras. For everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me. You’re the one who’s giving me the biggest gift in life.”

And with those words, I realize that I’m tired of pushing him away. He’s done everything to show me that he belongs in my life. It’s about time I tell him how I feel.

No more panicking. No more second-guessing. No more hiding from my feelings.

I love Rasmus Viktor Mikael Westerholm.

Later that evening, we’re curled up together on the couch, listening to music and enjoying a quiet night before his game tomorrow.

“Let me pick the next song,” I say, reaching for his phone on the coffee table. My fingers close around it, but when I tap the screen, it’s locked. “What was your passcode again?”

“1701.”

I type it in. “What’s the meaning of those numbers?”

He goes still and replies in a quiet voice, “January seventeenth.”

“Is that an important day in your life?”

Rasmus doesn’t answer right away. But when he speaks, his voice is soft yet sure. “The most important one.”

“Why?”

His gaze drops to my stomach, his hand following, resting there gently. “It was the day I first saw my son,” he says, voice rough with emotion.

Our first ultrasound appointment together was on that day. The day the little life growing inside me also became real for him. I blink against the sudden sting in my eyes, but it’s useless. Tears fill them, anyway, blurring my vision.

Rasmus doesn’t make a big deal out of it. He watches me in that quiet, patient way of his and wraps his arms around me. My growing belly presses against him, a reminder of everything that has changed and everything that’s still to come.

“Imagine how round my belly will be in a few months. We’re halfway through the pregnancy.”

He shifts, pressing a slow kiss to my temple and lowers his lips to my stomach. “I happen to love your rounding belly”, he says with another kiss. “And the strong legs that carry you and our baby around.”

His hands slide down to my thighs as he moves his lips to my neck, tracing a path along my skin. Kissing my cheek first, he gives me a peck on my nose. “I also love your cute nose and these lips,” he says, pressing his mouth to mine, slow and sweet.

I laugh against his lips, not sure where he’s going with this, but loving every second of it. We haven’t kissed since my dad got admitted to the hospital. But the feel of his lips on mine is as natural as breathing.

“And mostly,” he continues after a few more kisses, “I love that laugh of yours or how you sometimes snort right after.”

I laugh again, entirely out of the giddiness of his words. But it dissolves almost instantly, the rush of all these emotions overwhelming me. My throat tightens as fresh tears spill over .

“Sweetness, what’s wrong?” Rasmus asks, worry creasing his brows. “I don’t know how I keep making you cry all the damn time.”

I shake my head, pressing my forehead against his. “Nothing is wrong. These are happy tears, Rasmus,” I whisper. “Because I realized that I really love you. A lot. Too much at times, if I’m being honest.”

I see the moment my words register, clear as a cloudless summer day. His face brightens, and his smile is real and honest.

He cups my face, kissing my tear-stained cheeks.

“I love you, Haisley,” he murmurs. “For the person you are. For the gift you’re giving me.

” He shakes his head slightly. “I’ve kept those words inside me for days.

But knowing you love me too, I won’t ever stop saying it.

I love you. I love you. I love you,” he punctuates each declaration with a kiss. “Jag ?lskar dig.”

The Swedish words settle deep in my chest, anchoring me to him in a way I hadn’t fully grasped until now. I know what they mean, because he sometimes whispers them to my stomach. But now, they’re for me.

I sniffle, trying to pull myself together. “Jag ?lskar dig, Rasmus,” I echo.

He lets out a shaky breath like the words knocked the air right out of him. His thumb brushes beneath my eye, catching the last of my tears.

“For a long time, I didn’t think I’d ever say those words to anyone. Not after losing my grandparents. I was so sure I was better off keeping everyone out. It felt easier that way. Safer.”

“Me too. I got good at building walls. I thought if I kept them high enough, no one could hurt me,” I pause, the weight of the moment curling tight around my ribs. “But after fighting against my feelings since we reunited, I realized you make me want to risk it. You make me want to let someone in.”

His hand slides to the back of my neck, gentle and steady, grounding me in the softest way. “I’m scared too, Sweetness. Scared of how much I feel for you. Scared of what it means if I lose you or the baby.”

My throat thickens again, but this time I hold his gaze. “We don’t have to be scared alone.”

His lips brush mine, lingering there as he whispers, “No, we don’t. We’ll figure it out together. I want that with you. Only you.”

A content smile tugs at my lips as I lean into him, resting against the place where his heart beats strong beneath my palm. And just like that, the fear doesn’t feel so big anymore. Not when I have him. Not when we have each other.