Page 46 of Secret Bump

“I think so.” I cross to her hospital bed and she takes him, stripping him out of his swaddling blanket.

He reaches for her breast and latches on, his instincts strong.

She exhales in a rush and looks up at me. “I didn’t know it would be like this,” she whispers.

I move closer, curling around them both. “What is it like?”

She smiles softly. “It’s…wonderful.”

“Good.” I kiss her temple, then her cheek, nuzzling her as she feeds our baby.

“When can we go home?”

“I’ll find out.” But I don’t move. I’m not ready to let her go just yet.

She nestles into my arms, and we talk about a shopping list we can send Mrs. Millbank, easy snacking foods that sound good to Isabelle now that she’s a nursing mom. I tell her about taking Tower to the other side of the building to look out at downtown, and she giggles, reminding me he can only see a few inches in front of his face at this point.

“It was mostly for me,” I admit, my voice catching. “I want him to know from day one that I’m going to be there for him.”

“He knows.” Her voice catches, too. “He knows. We both do.”

“I love you, little one. I love you so much. I thought I loved you the maximum amount humanly possible over the last nine months, but last night blew that out of the water.”

She smiles. “Maybe we shouldn’t have any more kids, then. Wouldn’t want to put strain on your heart.”

“Bite your tongue. Every child we have will only exponentially grow my love for you.”

“That’s a lot of love,” she whispers. Her eyes glisten, but she’s still smiling.

“It’s what you deserve. The whole world, Isabelle. I promise you that.”

“I love you.” She lifts her face for a kiss, and I give it her.

Infinite kisses and infinite love for the only woman who could ever have unlocked this in me.

My wife.

My love.

Epilogue

Isabelle

Three years later

“No, no, no…”I stare down at the spreading coffee stain on my favorite dark gray yoga pants with abject horror. “Nooooo.”

This is what I get for trying to cram too much into a child-free morning. I wanted to bring Mack a coffee from Bright Books when I surprise him and the kids at the office.

But now I’m wearing my coffee and his is on the concrete at my feet.

The pants don’t say anything back. No apologies for attracting the coffee.

I do have a change of clothes in my bag, but after two kids, the outfit isn’t going to fit the same way it used to.

I’m hippier than I was when I first wore the kilt into the foyer of Emerson Industries.

Mack still likes to see me in it, though. Which is why I brought it with me. I thought maybe I would put it on in his office.

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