Page 114 of Goldrage
His hands frame my face as tears fill his eyes. “A baby.”
“I know it’s soon. I know we’re still… everything’s still so raw. But?—”
He kisses me. Deep and desperate and full of promise. When he pulls back, his cheeks are wet. “Say it again.”
“We’re having a baby.” The words get stronger each time. “We’re pregnant. You’re going to be a father.”
He sweeps me into his arms for a spin and I giggle. After he sets me down, his hand drifts to my stomach. “How far along?”
“I don’t know. Two months maybe? Everything’s been such a blur.” I cover his hand with mine. “But… I think I know what we should name the baby.”
“Already?”
“If it’s a boy…” I swallow hard. “I’d like to call him Julian.”
Adrian’s breath catches. His forehead drops to mine, and I feel more than hear his sob. “And for a girl?”
“Juliana.”
He’s crying now, silent tears that splash onto our joined hands. My own tears start again.
“A baby. Our baby.”
“Our baby.”
He drops to his knees suddenly, pressing his lips to my stomach through the fabric of my blouse. I sob, unable to contain my joy.
When he stands, pulling me against him, I feel it—that shift in the universe. The axis tilting toward tomorrow instead of yesterday.
“I love you,” he says against my hair. “Both of you.”
“We love you too.”
A happy future is just within reach, growing below my heart with each breath. Our son or our daughter is a promise that love is stronger than loss. That life, stubborn and insistent, finds a way through even the darkest soil.
EPILOGUE: AURELIA
When I look in the mirror, I see a stranger. White lace clings to curves that have grown fuller these past eight months. The Italian sunlight is streaming through ancient windows and it catches on the intricate beadwork of my dress. My hand drifts to my large, round stomach beneath silk and tulle. We created this tiny life together, me and Adrian, after surviving hell itself.
Little Juliana.
“Stop fidgeting,” Eleanora bites out, adjusting the emerald necklace at my throat. “You’re going to wrinkle the dress. Even a single wrinkle would be an injustice to this work of art.”
“I’m not fidgeting.” But my fingers are, smoothing fabric that doesn’t need smoothing. “Just… God, I can’t believe we’re here. That, you know, I’m gettingmarried.”
She steps back, studying me with those sharp eyes. Her hands rest on my shoulders as she tries to keep me still. “You’re the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.”
“Even with this?” I gesture at my belly. It’s so round there’s absolutely no way to hide it.
“Especially with that.” Her voice catches in a way that makes me look closer. Eleanora doesn’t do vulnerable. But today, I think I see tears gathering.
“Hey.” I reach for her hand, squeezing tight. “What’s wrong?”
She turns away, busying herself with my veil. The gossamer fabric trembles in her grip. “Nothing. Just… allergies. Not used to this place yet.”
“Bullshit. Talk to me.”
Eleanora’s shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath. When she faces me again, the tears are glittering, actual tears from a woman I almost never see cry.
