Page 33 of The Forever Experiment

He offers to pour my wine, but I decline, opting for water instead.

As we both dig into our food, Easton straightens his leg and reaches into his pocket. “Okay, are you ready for your gift?”

“Actually…” I say, standing from the table. “I have one for you too. Let me grab it.”

I dart into the ensuite off our bedroom, sifting through the drawers on my side of the sink until I find what I’m looking for and slip it into the pocket of my hoodie.

“I didn’t have time to wrap it. Sorry.” I sit back down, returning to my food. “So you should close your eyes when I hand it to you.”

He cocks his head, bemused. “Okay, fine. But you have to close your eyes too then.”

“I can agree to those terms.” I wink.

He chuckles, closing his fist around something. “Alright, you ready? Hold out your hand and close your eyes.”

I nod. “You do the same.”

I watch his lids fall shut just as mine do the same, and with darkness blanketing my vision, I reach into my hoodie pocket before gliding my closed fist across the table in search of his hand. While I’m doing so, I feel my left hand get flipped over, palm down, and I immediately know what my gift is as I feel it slide onto my finger.

I drop what I’m holding into Easton’s outstretched palm when he says, “Okay, can we open them?”

“Yep.” My stomach knots itself together, and I can feel the chicken swirling inside it, suddenly begging to come back up. I know I have no reason to be nervous. I know Easton is going to love it, but I can’t ignore the small part of me that’s absolutely terrified to see his reaction—mostly because I’m terrified myself, and if he acts the same, I might lose it.

I open my eyes, and they immediately fall to my left hand. Sure enough, a diamond-studded band, the perfect accent to my ring, sits just above it on my finger. Technically, Easton never bought me a wedding band, just the ring when we were in Vegas, and while we’ve been legally married the past year, it has felt more like dating. We live together, we work together, but we’ve also spent a lot of time getting to know one another and each other’s families, integrating our lives in a way that works for both of us.

It has been trial and error, and hard in some moments, but we decided when the time was right, we’d renew our vows in a more traditional setting. Sure, it had been born from the insistence of both our mothers and our siblings, but we want that for ourselves too.

I figured I’d worry about getting a wedding band when we were ready to take that step, and I wonder if Easton’s gift is his way of telling me he is.

I think my gift might be my way of doing the same.

“It’s beautiful, E,” I breathe, moving my hand in a way that allows the diamonds to reflect against the fading daylight outside our window. “I love it.”

He doesn’t respond, and I lift my eyes to gauge his reaction when I find him frozen, staring slack-jawed at the pregnancy test in his hand. His chest is expanding frantically with each rapid burst of breath from his parted lips, like his mind is sprinting.

“E, baby… Say something.”

His eyes finally flash to mine, and that’s when the building moisture welled within them spills over. His exhale is audible, a gasp of surprise before his mouth morphs into the brightest smile I’ve ever seen on another human being. “You’re pregnant?”

“Yeah,” I whisper. “Are you mad?”

His brows knit together. “Mad? Why would I be mad?”

“I don’t know… It wasn’t like this was entirely planned.” I got off birth control a few months ago, opting to track my cycle instead. I’ll admit, we weren’t the most careful, mostly because for the first time in my life, I trusted someone enough that I didn’t feel I needed to be. Still, we’d planned on having our vow renewal and crossing a few more international trips off our list before we had a baby.

“Fuck, Maya. I don’t care.” He stands abruptly, kicking his chair out behind him. Our dinners sit on the table, entirely forgotten as he slides the plates out of his way, grabbing me by the hips and setting me on our table. “This is the best day of my life. Are you kidding?”

He drops to his knees in front of me, lifting my sweatshirt to reveal my bare skin. He places his large hands across my stomach, the tendons in his fingers working deliciously as he runs his fingers over my flesh.

“How far along?” he asks, lifting his blazing blue eyes to me.

“I don’t know yet. I’m only about a week late, but you know how I feel about punctuality, so I took a test this morning. I’ll call the doctor tomorrow to schedule an appointment.”

He nods, planting his lips over my belly as his arms slide around my hips, pulling me into him. “Thank you,” he murmurs against me. “Thank you for giving me this.”

I run my fingers through his hair. He has told me a few times that he always wanted children, and as I look down at the way he tenderly handles my mid-section in his soft hands, the way he whispers his gratitude into my skin, the way his lips brush over the wet marks his tears left, I know he’ll be the most excellent father.

“I’m a little scared,” I admit quietly, mostly because, for all the confidence I have in him, I’m not sure I can say the same for myself.

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