Page 14 of Faith Notes
And even though I don’t deserve it, he reaches out, pulling me to him. The tenderness of his arms holding me breaks the dam, letting my tears flow freely.
“Don’t cry, Peach. It breaks my heart when you cry.”
The tears don’t stop, though.
I rest my forehead against his chest, taking comfort in the love of a man I don’t deserve.
“Sad. Mad. Happy. I can’t control my emotions. And you’re taking the brunt of that. This is not what I imagined when I imagined pregnancy.”
Tipping his chin down, he cradles my head and strokes my hair.
“What did you imagine?”
Taking a second, I think about what it was that I did expect, and the picture that comes to mind is everything opposite to what I am.
I expected it to be more like the movies where the woman lovingly cradles her stomach and shares her excitement with her husband.
Instead, snot leaks out of my nose as I cry against his chest, and if I were to look in a mirror, I’m positive the sight would be scary.
“I think I expected more glowing.”
Grayson’s snort of laughter is so unexpected that it startles me, causing me to pull back and take him in.
Tears leak from his eyes, and his laughter turns into the silent type until I’m afraid I might have to give him CPR so he can breathe.
“What?” I ask. His joy is contagious, and even though I don’t know what he’s laughing at, a smile slips onto my lips.
“It’s just—,” he wheezes, “I thought you were practically radiant when you threw my book at the window and the sun shined in.”
My mouth hangs agape for all of one second before the laughter takes hold of me, too.
And right there in that bed, laughing until we both can no longer breathe, we let go of the anger and heal.
Between the laughter and tears, I vow to myself that no matter the hormones surging through my body, I will be kinder to my husband because he is a good man who loves me despite my insanity.
Chapter 6
Grayson
18 Weeks
“Are you surviving pregnancy?”
The question is a hushed whisper as I look side to side, ensuring my wife can’t hear me.
Brooks stares back at me like I’ve lost my mind, but I’ll chance him making fun of me all day if it means avoiding the ire of my pregnant wife.
“Well—I’m not pregnant, so—” Brooks says slowly like I’m an idiot he has to explain this to.
“I meant with your wife,” I deadpan.
He chuckles, acting carefree, but his frivolous glance around before he says, “Oh yeah, that is a beast of its own.” tells a whole other story.
“Are they always this—moody?”
Brooks’s face turns white as a ghost, and he grabs onto my arm and pulls me into his pantry, where we proceed to hide in the dark.
“What are you doing? Why are we hiding in a pantry?”
