Page 57 of Wishing Stone

“City sidewalks, busy sidewalks…”

Our friends and family didn’t need any encouragement and easily picked up the lyrics toSilver Bells. We continued around the pond, singing as we walked. Alexander remained silent, but there was no mistaking the whisper of a smile on his face. One song transitioned into another, and it wasn’t until theTwelve Days of Christmasby Straight No Chaser came on did Alexander finally start singing. The song was a lively a cappella that energized the entire group.

But of course, Alexander had to be different. He didn’t sing any of the Christmas lyrics, but only theAfricamashup portion of the song.

A giggle bubbled from my lips as he pulled me to him. Circling his arms around my waist, he spun me in a circle.

“Nine ladies dancing, they were dancing for me,” he sang in a ridiculously high octave that had me doubling over in laughter. “Eight maids of milking, they were milking just for me. I had Christmas down in Africa…”

“Thank God you’re a real-estate investor, Alex,” Matteo teased. “I don’t think you’d make it on the big stage.”

Alexander narrowed his eyes.

“That’s not for you to decide, my friend.” Then, to my surprise, he knelt before me and pressed his face to the flat of my stomach. Whispering in a voice that only I could hear, he said, “All that matters is that my son or daughter likes it.”

Holding tight to my hips, he continued to sing, finishing out the song in a much lower tenor that suited his voice. When he returned to a standing position, he cupped my face and angled it so he could rain kisses on my cheeks, forehead and nose.

When he paused to stare directly into my eyes, a million emotions swirled in his sapphire blues—emotions that I was sure mirrored my own. My heart swelled as I waited for him to speak.

“Thank you, angel. I couldn’t have asked for a better Christmas gift.”

22

Christmas Day

Alexander

The sun had barely peeked over the horizon on Christmas morning, but I lay in bed wide awake. I had been for most of the night, as I couldn’t seem to stop touching my wife—my pregnant wife.

Krystina was still asleep with her arm thrown over the top of her head. I slowly ran my fingers over the bend at her elbow and brushed the side of her face. Traveling down, my hand slid down to her breasts toward her stomach, taking the sheet with me and exposing her naked body. Shifting down, I lay my head on her stomach. Although we’d been here before, it was hard to believe my wife was carrying our child.

Thirteen weeks.

This was the furthest she’d carried so far. When she told me how far along she was, I couldn’t explain the terror I felt over the idea of losing another baby. Not now. Not again.

People tend to forget about the father during the whole miscarriage experience. Instead, all the focus is on the woman—as it should be. But that didn’t mean a father’s grief, pain, and suffering weren’t real. When Krystina had lost the third pregnancy, it damn near destroyed me. I couldn’t imagine either of us having to go through that ever again.

As if she sensed my apprehension, Krystina stirred awake. I glanced up to see her looking down at me. Her eyes were sleepy as she gave me a slow, lazy smile.

“Morning, handsome,” she murmured.

Sliding back up her body, I pushed a stray curl from her forehead and kissed her.

“Sleep well?”

“So, so. I mean, all the excitement from the night made it difficult. I’m just happy you finally know about the baby. Keeping it a secret was killing me.”

I frowned. I didn’t want to be mad at her for not telling me, but she was wrong in doing so. I didn’t press her about it last night only because everyone was around. It was a night for family, friends, and holiday festivities. Explanations had to wait.

I propped my head up on one elbow and looked directly into her eyes. I needed to understand.

“Why did you keep it from me, angel?”

She frowned, and her face was full of uncertainty. Yet, there was also an inexplicable amount of vulnerability that hadn’t been there before—almost as if she were afraid to tell me why she held onto the secret of our baby for so long.

“We’ve just experienced so much loss, Alex. And well… It’s hard to explain. With the third pregnancy, there was this shift in you. It went beyond just excited energy. You became involved in ways you hadn’t with the first two. You were attached to the baby just as much as I was. Never in my life did I think I would hear someone like you cooing at my stomach,” she said with a laugh. “It was so endearing, and although I didn’t think it was possible, it made me love you even more.”

“You make all of that sound like it was a bad thing.”

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