Page 18 of Melting the Grump
"Yet here you are." His tone is light, but when I look up, his eyes hold that intensity that still makes my heart skip. "Two years married, and you haven't run screaming back to Portland yet."
"Not a chance." I set down my glass, turning to face him fully. "Whitetail Falls is home now. You're home."
His expression softens as he reaches out to tuck a curl behind my ear, his fingers lingering against my cheek. "I know I don't say it enough, Abigail, but you coming here, fighting for your festival, fighting for us… it's the best thing that's ever happened to me."
The tenderness in his voice nearly undoes me. For all his gruff exterior, Scott's heart is the softest, most generous I've ever known. I take a deep breath, knowing this is the perfect moment for my own surprise.
"I have something for you," I say, reaching for his hand. "Not exactly a traditional anniversary gift."
His eyebrows lift with curiosity as I guide his palm to rest against my still-flat stomach. For a moment, confusion flickers across his face, then understanding dawns, his eyes widening, lips parting in stunned silence.
"Abigail?" His voice is barely a whisper, rough with emotion. "Are you—?"
"Yes." I can't help the tears that spring to my eyes, happy tears that mirror the moisture suddenly gleaming in his. "In about seven months, there'll be a new Martin in Whitetail Falls."
Scott remains frozen for a heartbeat, his hand warm against my abdomen. Then, with a gentleness that belies his strength, he gathers me into his arms, his face buried in my hair.
I feel a tremor run through him—my steady, practical husband overcome with emotion.
"A baby," he murmurs against my temple, voice thick. "Our baby."
When he pulls back to look at me, the naked wonder on his face is everything I'd hoped for. His hand returns to my stomach, protective and reverent, as if he might already feel the tiny life we've created.
"Are you happy?" I ask, though his reaction leaves little doubt.
"Happy doesn't begin to cover it." He shakes his head, a smile breaking through his amazement. "Terrified, overwhelmed, but mostly..." He takes a shaky breath. "Mostly just grateful. For you. For this life we're building together."
The music changes to something slower, more intimate. Scott stands, pulling me gently to my feet and into his arms. We sway together beneath the lantern light, my head resting against his chest where I can hear the steady rhythm of his heart.
"What do you think?" I ask softly. "Boy or girl?"
"Doesn't matter," he murmurs into my hair. "As long as they have your smile and stubborn determination."
"And your kindness," I add. "Your sense of responsibility."
"Poor kid," Scott chuckles. "Stubborn from both sides."
We dance in comfortable silence, barefoot on the blanket beneath the ancient oak that has witnessed the entire arc of our love story. Around us, Whitetail Falls settles into evening quiet, shops closing, windows lighting up, the distant laughter from The Copper Kettle carrying on the night air.
This town that once felt like a temporary refuge has become the setting for the most important chapters of my life.
"I love you," I whisper against Scott's chest. "You and our little acorn."
His arms tighten around me, protective and tender all at once. "And we love you. More than you'll ever know."
As we sway beneath the golden light, autumn leaves drifting around us like nature's confetti, I close my eyes and breathe in the perfect contentment of this moment. In Scott's embrace, with our child growing between us and Whitetail Falls cradling us all in its small-town magic, I've found what I searched for all my life without knowing:
I've found where I truly, completely belong.
