Page 72 of His Vivacious Angel
I guess, “Josie’s project?”
“And mine. We hope you’ll like it.” Once inside, he flips on the overhead light.
Time stands still when I do a slow spin, and I find it harder to breathe, especially when I face the right wall. Four names have been carved in wood in a curly script, painted in different shades of green. Each name is over a foot tall, hanging on the wall above a beautiful, dark-brown-stained crib, with a clean sheet already fitted on the firm mattress. I can’t stop my heart fromracing.
“How did you know?” I ask.
Standing behind me, he tentatively rests his hands on my shoulders. When I start to relax beneath his touch, he presses his chest to my back, trailing his hands down my arms. I wish I hadn’t worn my robe so I could feel his bare skin against mine.
“Shayla told me the names you picked out,” he says wistfully. “Whichever comes first, we’ll center that one and save the rest. If we have more than two boys or two girls, or if you decide on a different name, I’ll have those made too.”
I miss his body heat when he drifts to the matching dresser on the opposite wall, which sits next to a five-tiered bookcase that already sports a small library’s worth of soft play, board, and picture books with hand-painted animal figurines. He pulls open the dresser drawers one by one, which are fully stocked with tiny onesies, baby socks, rolled swaddling blankets, and adorable little hats.
“I have everything from preemie to size two-T,” he says, closing the drawers and moving to open the closet door.
From side to side, the closet is packed with outfits hanging on small wooden hangers. Dresses and little suits, sweaters and coats. The top shelf is lined with all kinds of the most precious little shoes and boots, ranging in size as well. On the floor, stacked high, are so many bulk boxes of diapers that they obscure the carpet. Forest nods to the back wall facing the front yard, with the large, centered window draped in ivory curtains. The mural that surrounds the window is Josephine’s handiwork—an autumnal forest of trees and smiling animals, from deer and rabbits to a badger and the cutest little family of skunks.
I press my tingly fingertips to my lips, astounded by the level of work and sheer number of hours Josephine must have put into painting the mural. “This must have taken weeks to paint,” I say.
“She finished last night,” he says proudly. “And believe me, I paid her handsomely for her first commission.”
“But how did you know when I haven’t even told Shayla yet?”
Forest’s brows draw inward briefly when he tips his head toward the wooden carvings. “Are those not the names you came up with?”
“They are… But how did you know about the baby? I’m not even showing yet.”
He drops his gaze to my stomach and scratches his head. “Why would you be when you’re not—” His eyes flare wide. “Are you saying you’re pregnant?”
I drop my hand to rest it low on my mostly-still-flat abdomen. “Are you saying you didn’t know?”
“No, of course not.” He inches forward, opening and closing his mouth a few times, flicking his eyes up to mine, and then down to my waist over and over again.
“Then what is all this?” I ask, waving to the incredible furniture and decor as my pulse quickens.
“This is me proving to you that I won’t change my mind and that I want what you want—us, a family, the kids—four or five or however many more we decide to have. You’re really pregnant? With my baby? Right now? Like, right-right now?”
“Yes,” I say softly, swaying toward him.
I’m not sure whether to laugh at all his bumbling, sag at the relief that I no longer have to carry this heavy secret, or cry about the beautiful, thoughtful gesture and how this will forever change the shape of our future.He shares my dream.
After weeks of keeping my hands to myself, I finally cup his face and breathe in his sea spray and sage scent that I’ve missed. “You really didn’t know?”
“No.” He palms my hand on his face, tilting his head into my touch, his eyes growing misty. “You said you got your period. How is this possible?”
I shake my head. “I went to the doctor when I didn’t get my full period. They tested me. The blood—it was implantation bleeding.”
“Angel…” His awe shifts to one of profound joy when he finishes untying my belt and slips a hand beneath my robe and cami to palm my lower belly. It’s a beautiful moment that I hope to remember forever.
“Does this mean you’re happy? Now that it’s real, you’re not thinking of running away, are you?” I ask with my heart in my throat.
“I’ve never thought of running away from you. All this time, I’ve only thought about how to get you to stop running from me. Everything I’ve done—this isn’t me giving in to what you want just so I can have you, but showing you I share the same dream.” Breathing deeply, he slips his hand around my back. “This nursery is the thirteenth of my detailed fourteen-step plan to win you back.”
I circle my arms around his neck, playing with the soft strands of hair at the nape of his neck. “Fourteen?” My voice is shaky when I ask, “Was one of those steps to stop talking to me and make me think you moved on?”
Forest’s face drains of color, and he clutches my waist. “No, never! I was scared that if I kept sulking and pressuring you, you’d never give me a second chance to even make it this far. I wanted to show you that I respect your wishes when you need space.”
I nod as I accept his answer, seeing our interactions in a new light.
