Epilogue #3
"No, and no. In fact, I don’t think it’s going to be that time of the month, nor am I going to get a migraine for a while longer."
"O-k-a-y?" He seems bemused.
The kitten makes a mewling noise.
"I think she’s hungry. Did you buy any food?"
"Of course." He jumps up to his feet and this time, when he returns, he’s holding a bowl with her name written on it.
"Whoa, am I so predictable that you knew what I was going to name her?"
"Not predictable, just sentimental, in a good way." He walks over to the side of the room where I spot a cat cave, and next to it, a rubber mat on which he places the bowl.
"You got her a cat cave? How did I miss that?" Probably because you were hurling your guts out. I grimace.
He takes the cat from me, and when he places it on the mat in front of the bowl, it instantly begins to lap at the soft food. He strokes Cocoa, who continues to eat.
He rises to his feet, then freezes. Every muscle in his body seems to tense.
He slowly turns and prowls toward me. As he approaches me, he picks up speed.
He covers the last few steps in almost a lunge and goes down on his knees next to the bed.
"Starling," his throat moves as he swallows.
"Are you trying to tell me that you’re—"
I nod. "I’m pregnant."
"Pregnant?"
I can’t stop the smile that curves my features. "After you left for work this morning, I threw up—"
He pales. "You never told me?"
"I thought it was something I ate. But then something inside me insisted I take a pregnancy test, and—"I glance at my bedside drawer.
"It was positive?"
I nod.
"Baby, you’re having a baby?" He takes my hand in his, then kisses my knuckles. "We’re having a baby."
"We are."
"I… I can’t believe it." He presses the back of my palm to his cheek. "I’m so fucking happy."
"Me too."
He lowers my hand, then leans in and kisses my forehead. "I fucking love you so much."
"Me too."
He kisses the tip of my nose, then stiffens. “This changes things.”
“What things?”
“It’s not safe for you to keep the kitten while you’re pregnant.”
I blink. “What? No.” I stare down at the now sleeping Cocoa, who I’m already attached to. “I’m not letting go of her.”
“But it could cause complications for the baby.”
“Not if I’m careful.”
He firms his lips. Those blue-brown eyes of his have a sheet of ice crusted over them.
He looks angry. But if look closely, I can glimpse the worry under that freezing gaze.
He’s looking out for me, as he’s done since the first time I met him.
First, as my brother’s best friend; then, as the man I had a raging crush on; and then, as my husband and lover.
This man has my best interests at heart...
And now that I know him better, I think I can find a middle ground that works for both of us.
“I understand how concerned you are for me. I know you want to protect me and our baby.”
The expression on his features doesn’t change, but his shoulders relax.
“And you’re right. It could cause issues with the pregnancy,” I concede.
He blinks. “You agree?”
I nod. “I’m aware it could be tricky, but not if I take precautions.”
He doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t outright shut me down, either. It gives me the courage to go on.
“We’ll make sure the cat is regularly seen by a vet. I’ll make sure to wash my hands thoroughly after playing with her. And I won’t handle the litter, at all—”
“We’ll make sure to have someone take care of that. And the litter will be in another room, far away from you, as will the cat cave. In fact, I’ll give Cocoa her own room, fill it with toys and also, add a scratching post.”
I’m about to protest, but then I see the glint of apprehension in his eyes, mixed with the urge to please me, and I nod slowly. “Okay… But I get to play with her.”
“Okay.” The tension drains from his features. He leans in and presses his mouth to mine. "This baby is going to be so loved. He’s so lucky to have you for a mother."
"And you for a father."
His chest rises and falls. He leans back and sits heavily on his heels. "A father"—he blinks—"I’m going to be a father."
"You are." I squeeze his hand. "You are going to be incredible, I know it."
"So are you." Then his gaze shadows. "I wish—"
"Ben." I nod. "I wish he were here to see my child. But he told me, you know."
"Told you what?"
"That last time I saw him—the last time I had a vision about him, I mean—he hinted that I’d be pregnant soon."
"He did?" My husband tilts his head. There’s no judgement in his expression.
He gets me. He really does. How lucky does that make me? My therapist confirmed that the visions or dreams were my way of coping with the loss, and the fact I’m not having them anymore shows I’ve embraced reality.
She also said it was healthy to talk about my feelings with my husband. The more I talk it out, the easier I’ll find it to move on. Not that I’ll ever be able to move on from the loss of my brother.
"He’ll always be a part of me."
"He is." Nate nods and twines his fingers through mine. "You’re a mosaic of everyone you ever loved. Ben lives on through you, through Arrow, through his nephew."
"You so sure it’s a boy?"