Prologue
The hotel check-in has a couple of people in line ahead of us, and my stomach flutters while I mentally run through the list of everything I brought to make sure our anniversary weekend at the swanky Oregon hotel is perfect: sexy dress — check; new skimpy bikini to drive my husband wild — check; special fertility lubrication that the doctor recommended we use — check.
Trent must have sensed my brain was running a mile a minute because he moves his luggage to his other hand and slides his palm into mine, giving me a gentle squeeze.
He leans over and murmurs in my ear, “Relax, Becky.”
I can’t stop my giggle when his breath tickles the sensitive hairs. “Yes, honey. I’ll relax. I promise.”
He’s right, I need to stop worrying and enjoy our time together.
I’m trying to not pin all my hopes on this weekend, but this is an important trip for us.
We’ve been trying for a baby, and our anniversary this year is during my fertile time of the month…
almost like it’s fate. The dream is that we have a wonderful weekend and then find out in a few weeks that I’m pregnant.
Once we get to the counter, it doesn’t take us long to get the keycards to our hotel room.
It was a long drive, and I wouldn’t mind stretching out for a while before we start our evening fun, whatever that is.
We don’t have a set plan this weekend, and the only goal is to rest up and enjoy each other.
And make a baby.
We’re halfway to the elevator when Trent abruptly pauses. “Shit, I forgot the bag of snacks.”
I stop pulling my wheeled suitcase and stand it upright. We always bring our own munchies to avoid the hotel minibar, but do we really need them right now? I really don’t want to go back to the car.
“Why don’t we get them later, after we settle in?”
Trent sighs. “No, I’d rather get them now. Go ahead to the room. I’ll be just a minute.”
Love for Trent spreads through me since he’s going without me, and I know we’re both tired from the trip. “Okay, honey. I’ll see you up there.”
He gives me a quick kiss on the cheek, and I watch him for a moment as he walks away. Dang, I really married a cutie, and he’s so damn thoughtful.
Gripping the handle of the suitcase, I continue on to the elevator. If I’m lucky, I can get a couple of minutes on the bed before Trent gets back.