The Wife he Chose to Doubt (Marriage in Crisis, Grovel & Redemption #2)

Chapter 1

Naomi

The nurse smiled as she placed the small white envelope into my hands.

“Congratulations, Naomi,” she said.

The words settled somewhere deep inside me, a place that had spent the last eight years bracing for disappointment.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

I walked out of the fertility clinic in a daze, the warm afternoon sun and the stream of people crossing the parking lot passing around me without registering. Every few steps, I looked down at the envelope to make sure it was still there, as though it might disappear if I stopped checking.

When I reached my car, I climbed inside and closed the door.

Silence settled around me.

My hands trembled as I opened the envelope.

A tiny black-and-white ultrasound.

A picture no bigger than my hand had somehow become the most precious thing I’d ever owned.

I traced the edge of it with my thumb.

“We did it,” I whispered to the empty car.

The tears came before I could stop them.

For so many years, I’d imagined this moment.

Negative tests, hormone injections, early morning appointments, procedures I’d lost count of, birth announcements from friends I’d smiled through before crying in the shower where nobody could hear me.

Every setback had chipped away at the certainty that this day would ever come.

Yet here I was. Pregnant.

I laughed through my tears, pressing the ultrasound carefully back into its envelope before reaching for my phone.

Hannah answered almost immediately.

“Well?” she asked.

I couldn’t speak.

A soft gasp came through the speaker.

“Oh my God,” Hannah said.

I laughed again, wiping my cheeks.

“It’s positive,” I said.

She shrieked so loudly I had to hold the phone away from my ear.

“I knew it. I knew this was your month,” she said.

“I don’t think I’ve stopped crying since they told me.”

“You don’t have to stop.”

Neither of us spoke for a moment. Her sniffling came quietly through the line.

“I wish Mom could see this,” she said quietly.

“So do I,” I said.

The ache lingered only briefly before the joy found its place again.

Hannah cleared her throat.

“Have you told Patrick?” she asked.

I smiled at the thought of him.

“Not yet.”

“What? Why not?”

“I almost called him from the waiting room.”

“So what happened?”

“I want to see his face.”

She laughed.

“Oh, Naomi, he’s going to lose it.”

“I know.”

“I’ve never seen anyone want to be a dad more than Patrick,” she said.

Neither had I. Through every failed cycle, every appointment, every drive home filled with silence, he’d held my hand and promised we’d keep going for as long as I wanted.

This wasn’t just my miracle. It was ours.

“I’m going to surprise him tonight,” I said.

“You’ve already planned it, haven’t you?”

“Not exactly.”

“You’ve absolutely planned it,” she said.

I laughed.

“Fine. I’m going to make his favorite dinner, wrap the ultrasound in a little gift box, and let him figure it out.”

Hannah made the kind of happy squeal only sisters could get away with.

“I wish I could be there,” she said.

“So do I.”

“But call me afterward.”

“I promise.”

“And Naomi?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m so happy for you,” she said.

Fresh tears blurred my vision.

“Thanks.”

We said goodbye, and I rested my forehead against the steering wheel for a moment.

Eight years. It had taken eight years to hear someone call me “Mom.” Even if it had only been inside my own head.

I smiled, started the car, and pulled out of the parking lot, already counting the hours until Patrick came home.

I pulled into the parking lot of my favorite coffee shop more out of habit than anything else. The afternoon suddenly felt too beautiful to rush through. I wanted one quiet moment before the rest of my life began.

The bell above the door chimed as I stepped inside. The rich smell of coffee and fresh pastries wrapped around me, and for the first time all day, everything felt wonderfully ordinary.

I joined the short line, still smiling to myself, my fingers brushing the envelope inside my purse.

“Naomi?”

The familiar voice stopped me in my tracks.

I turned. For a second, I simply stared. Then my face broke into a grin.

“Eric?”

He laughed as he walked toward me.

“I wasn’t sure it was you,” he said.

“I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“That’s because I have a few more gray hairs than I did ten years ago.”

“You definitely do.”

He pressed a hand dramatically against his chest.

“That was rude,” he said.

“It was honest.”

We both laughed. Seeing him again felt strangely easy. We’d spent most of college together, studying for exams, complaining about professors, and convincing ourselves we’d have our lives figured out by thirty.

Life had made other plans.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I live about fifteen minutes away.”

“No kidding. Camila and I moved here last year,” he said.

“You did?”

“Yeah. Her company’s headquarters relocated.”

He looked toward one of the tables near the window and lifted a hand. A woman smiled back before returning to the laptop in front of her.

“My wife,” he said.

I smiled.

“She’s beautiful.”

“I’ll tell her you said that.”

“You probably shouldn’t.”

He laughed again.

“So what about you? How have you been?” he asked.

The question should have been simple. Instead, my smile grew until my cheeks hurt.

“I’ve...” I looked down, shaking my head with a quiet laugh. “I’ve had the happiest day of my life.”

His expression softened immediately.

“Really?” he asked.

I nodded.

“I can’t really explain yet.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I just...”

The words caught in my throat.

“I didn’t think today would ever happen.”

His eyes searched mine for a second before understanding spread across his face.

“I don’t know what’s happened,” he said quietly, “but congratulations.”

Before I could answer, he stepped forward and wrapped me in a brief, warm hug.

“I’m really happy for you,” he said.

“Thank you.”

I blinked quickly, laughing at myself.

“I promised myself I’d stop crying.”

“Clearly that plan isn’t working,” he said.

“It really isn’t.”

He stepped back just as the woman from the table joined us, carrying two drinks.

“There you are,” she said.

Eric smiled.

“Camila, this is Naomi. We were friends in college,” he said.

Camila offered her hand.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said.

“You too.”

She glanced between us before looking back at me.

“I’ve never seen Eric hug anyone that enthusiastically. Whatever happened today, congratulations,” she said.

I laughed.

“Thank you.”

“We won’t keep you,” Eric said. “I’m just glad we ran into each other.”

“Me too.”

We exchanged numbers, promised not to let another decade pass before speaking again, and went our separate ways.

Neither of us noticed the man sitting inside a parked sedan across the street. He lifted his phone. The camera zoomed in. The shutter clicked once, capturing the moment Eric’s arms had been around me.

By the time I pulled into our driveway, my excitement had settled into nervous energy.

I carried the grocery bags inside, set my purse on the kitchen counter, and pulled the ultrasound photo from the envelope again.

After everything we’d been through, this tiny picture made every injection, every appointment, every disappointment feel worth surviving.

I opened the cabinet above the refrigerator.

The little gift box was still there. I’d bought it years ago after one of our first fertility appointments, hopeful in a way that only the start of a journey could be.

I’d tucked away a pair of tiny white baby shoes inside it, convinced we’d be using them within months.

Instead, they’d sat hidden away through birthdays, anniversaries, and more negative pregnancy tests than I wanted to remember.

Today, I finally took them out.

The shoes looked impossibly small resting beside the ultrasound photo. I carefully folded a note and slipped it underneath.

We finally did it.

My throat tightened.

Patrick was going to cry. Not often. In eight years of marriage, I’d only seen him truly break down twice. Once when we buried his father, and once after our third failed IVF cycle, when he’d apologized for not being able to fix something neither of us had caused.

Tonight would be different. Tonight those tears would come from joy.

I set the gift box beside his place at the dining table before turning my attention to dinner. His favorite creamy Tuscan chicken simmered gently on the stove while I boiled pasta and slid garlic bread into the oven.

The familiar routine steadied me. Every few minutes, my eyes drifted back to the little box waiting on the table.

My phone buzzed. Patrick.

I answered before the second ring.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he said, sounding tired but warm. “I’m leaving now.”

“Perfect timing.”

“You sound happy,” he said.

“I’ve had a really good day.”

“I can’t wait to hear about it.”

A smile spread across my face.

“I think you’ll like it.”

“I have a feeling I will.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The call ended.

I looked around the dining room one last time, straightening a napkin that didn’t need straightening before stepping back.

Everything was ready. In less than an hour, Patrick would open that little box, and our lives would change forever.

I couldn’t imagine this night becoming anything other than one of the happiest memories we’d ever share.