Page 76 of Better as It

“What’s wrong?”

I shake my head. “Nothing.”

He sits beside me on the bed, close but not pushing.

“Dia.”

I look at him. Really look at him. He’s still thinner than he was, but his color is back. His strength. His humor. The man I fell for is still there—but tempered now. Stronger in quieter ways.

“I’m scared,” I whisper.

“Of what?”

“This,” I say, waving a hand toward the house, the nursery, the ring he doesn’t wear yet because I asked him to wait. “Everything. I feel like… like this is too good. Like the universe is going to take it away.”

He nods slowly, eyes soft. “I know that feeling.”

I curl into him, my head on his chest.

“Every time you got sick,” I say, “I’d lie to Benjamin in my belly and tell him Daddy was just tired. And I’d pray I wouldn’t have to explain why you weren’t coming back. I wondered how I could tell my son he lost two dads. I don’t want to lose you, not just for me, but for our son.”

He wraps both arms around me. “You never will.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I don’t,” he admits. “But I know I’m not quitting.”

I breathe him in.

His warmth. His steady heartbeat.

Then I whisper, “Make love to me.”

He pulls back just enough to look at me. “You sure? It’s only been nine weeks. There’s no pressure, darlin’. No rush to bounce back to anything.”

He’s right. It’s been nine weeks since I gave birth. Nine weeks of healing. Nine weeks of adjusting. Nine weeks of holding my body together while it mended and figuring out how to be a mother. I’m not the same me I was before baby and for this moment, I need to feel like Dia Crews. I need to feel like myself.

I don’t have it all figured out yet, but I know this.

I want this man. I want every bit of him for the rest of our days. It’s not just the way he touches me. It’s the way he sees me. The way he’s always seen me. The way he still finds me beautiful and strong even if I needed help putting on disposable underwear and icepacks for my pads. He makes me feel like I’m his.

“I need to feel it. All of it. You. This. That it’s real.”

I climb onto him, knees folding beside his hips. He watches my every movement like I’m his entire universe. He kisses me gently.

“You sure?” His voice is rough.

“I know you’re tired from treatment. I’ll do the work. But Justin I miss you. I want to feel close to you.”

He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for days. He reaches up, fingers brushing my cheek, then sliding into my hair as he pulls me down gently. His lips meet mine in a kiss that is slow and filled with so much love my chest physically aches.

He undresses me like it’s the first time.

No rush. No urgency.

His hands slide over my waist, my hips, the soft places my body never had before the baby. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look away. Just kisses every stretch mark like it’s holy.

“You made our son in this body,” he says. “I don’t think you’ll ever understand how beautiful that is.”

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