Years of pressure and grief and regret poured out of him in shaking breaths.
“I missed everything,” he whispered.
I had imagined this moment so many times during pregnancy.
Imagined him rejecting us.
Being angry.
Demanding.
I had never imagined this.
A man mourning time he could never get back.
“He kicks when music plays,” I said softly.
Ethan looked up.
“He likes strawberries. I ate them constantly.”
A watery laugh escaped him.
“He has your eyebrows.”
I smiled before I could stop myself.
“He definitely has your dramatic personality.”
For the first time all night, Ethan smiled too.
And suddenly he looked exactly like the boy I fell in love with.
Not the exhausted surgeon.
Not the distant husband.
Just Ethan.
The silence between us softened.
Then he asked quietly,
“Did you ever hate me?”
I thought about it honestly.
The lonely pregnancy.
The fear.
The nights crying alone.
Then I looked at the man holding our son like he was holding the entire universe.
“No,” I admitted. “But I tried very hard to.”
His eyes filled again.
And before either of us could say another word, Lucas sneezed.
We both burst out laughing.
At the exact same time.
Like no time had passed at all.
