I open the door, and she pops up from where she was sitting on the couch. I hold the test kit behind my back. “Hey,” she says.
“You okay?” I ask.
She fidgets, wringing her hands together. “I think we should end our engagement,” she says.
My heart f**king stops.
Emily
He looks like I just punched him. “Oh, my God,” I breathe out. I walk to him and try to take him into my arms.
He sets me back from him, his face a storm cloud of fury. “What?” he asks.
“Oh, that came out wrong,” I say.
He squeezes my upper arms tightly, so tight that it makes me squirm a little. But what makes me even more nervous is the look in his eyes. Logan can be intense, but this is different. This is reserved only for me. “It better have come out wrong,” he bites out.
He dropped a shopping bag on the floor when he grabbed me, and I stare down at it like a fool. It looks just like the one I just shoved into the couch cushions. “What’s that?” I ask, pointing to it like it’s a snake that’s about to bite me.
“Why do you want to end our engagement?” he asks. He shrugs out of his coat and hangs it on the peg by the door. “What the f**k are you thinking, Em?” He’s shaking, and I suddenly realize what I’ve just done.
“Oh, I didn’t mean break up, Logan,” I say. A frantic giggle busts from my lips.
“I am not amused,” he says.
I wring my hands. “I just meant…maybe we could…maybe we could get married. Like soon.”
We talk about getting married all the time, but it’s just not something either of us has felt a great desire to do. I don’t want the pomp and circumstance, and he would just as soon avoid the crowd. So, we wait.
“Why?” he asks.
I walk to the sofa and get my bag that looks just like his. I hand it to him. He opens it and deflates like a balloon. Then he starts to laugh. When Logan laughs, there’s a part inside me that splits open with sheer happiness. My insides start to freaking glow when he’s happy. I know that sounds stupid, but it’s the truth.
He picks his bag up and hands it to me. I open the white paper sack and look inside. Then I grin, too. He laughs, grabs me to him, and spins me around. “I f**king love you so much,” he says by my ear.
“How did you know?” I ask.
“I know your body, Em,” he says softly. He cups my breast in his hand and sweeps across the suddenly turgid tip. “Your boobs are bigger, and you didn’t eat the pie.” He laughs.
“And I’m late,” I admit.
“How late?” he asks.
“Like a month and a half.”
“Thought so.” He grins like a fool. He jerks a thumb toward the bathroom. “Go pee on the f**king stick, Em,” he says. He starts opening one of the boxes and motions for me to follow him to the bathroom. He won’t even leave the room while I pee on the stupid stick. He stays. I lay it on the counter, my heart lighter than it has ever been. I wash my hands and look in the mirror to brush my hair back from my face. I chew on my fingernails and wait.
Logan steps up behind me and looks at me in the mirror, and I can remember the first time he looked at me like this. We were in a bathroom at a restaurant and he had just kissed me for the first time. He looked into my eyes in our reflection, and I was gone. He had just shown me the tattoo that unlocked my world, and I was his. I haven’t looked back since.
“Are you afraid?” he asks as he sweeps my hair to the side and kisses my neck.
“I was,” I admit. He watches my lips in the mirror. “But not anymore. Now that you’re here, I’m fine.” He’s the peace in my soul. He’s all I need. I lay a hand on my belly. And there might be another little piece of him and me together.
He picks up the stick and looks down at it. He stares at it for a second and then looks up at me. His eyes fill with tears, and he blinks them back. Then he nods. It’s a quick jerk. Just one. I fall against him and sob into his shoulder.
“You and me, Em. We’re going to have a baby,” he says softly.
He hitches me up with his hands on my bottom and I wrap my legs around his waist. Logan carries me to the bedroom and pulls my shirt over my head. He unhooks my bra with deft fingers and lays me down. He hovers over me, pulling my pants down over my feet and then my panties, until I’m naked and exposed.
I don’t move because my heart is swelling and my blood is thumping. When he’s naked, he comes back to me, but he doesn’t kiss my face. He bends and kisses my belly. He lifts me and moves me higher in the bed, where he can hover over me. “Me and you, Em,” he says again, his fingers tickling over my belly.
My tummy is still flat. This is too new for it to show, but I am moved by how reverently and tenderly he touches me. He lays a flat palm on my belly, and I cover his hand with mine.
“What if our baby is like me, Logan?” I ask. My voice suddenly cracks. “I’ll never be able to read her a bedtime story.”
He takes my hand and clutches it to his heart. “But I can.” He takes in a deep breath through his nose with his eyes closed, and then his blue eyes stare directly into mine. “I didn’t even have a voice until I met you, Em,” he says. “You gave me that. Let me use it. I’ll read to him. I’ll read until my throat hurts.”
“But what will I do?”
He smiles softly. “You’ll do what I can’t. You’ll sing with him. You’ll teach the baby about music. I can never do that.” It’s true. Logan feels the beat of music, but he doesn’t get much more than that. He will never appreciate music the way a hearing person can. “We complement one another, Em,” he says. “We always have. You punched me in the face because I was being a douche, but in all reality, you took my breath away and I wanted you. I wanted every part of you.” He picks my foot up, brings it close to his mouth, and starts kissing from my ankle to the back of my knee. A shiver runs up my spine, and I raise my other foot to his other shoulder. He grins and pushes my feet toward my shoulders, sinking inside me in one slow push. If I turned my head right now, I could kiss my ankle.