Max, ever my rock, took the lead on the renovation front, coordinating with our friends and overseeing the endless list of tasks that needed to be completed before we could move in. It was heartening to see him so involved, his excitement about becoming a dad evident in everything he did. He was already talking about babyproofing the house and researching the best strollers and cribs, his enthusiasm boundless.
In the midst of all this, there were moments of pure joy—choosing the color for the nursery, feeling the first fluttering kicks, and envisioning our future as a family. There were also moments of sheer panic—wondering if we were truly ready, if we could handle the responsibilities that lay ahead.
The more the swell of my belly grew, so did the strength of my confidence in how our life was unfolding. I had this sudden focus on something so much bigger than myself, even though, at this point, it was the size of a mango. Each kick and flutter was a reminder of the new life Max and I were about to welcome into the world, and with it, a clarity that what we were building together was meant to be.
Today was the day I was allowed back into the brownstone. Max stood at the front door, his face a mixture of excitement and nerves, as if he was presenting me with a gift he desperately hoped I’d love. God, this man was something else. My hormones kicked into overdrive, and I was ready to jump his bones with even the slightest look from him.
He reached for my hand, his palm warm and reassuring against mine. “Ready for the grand tour?” he asked, his voice laced with hope.
As we stepped through the vestibule—a term Max had proudly learned and insisted on using—I was immediately struck by the transformation. The entranceway opened into a bright, airy space where the living room flowed seamlessly into a hallway leading to the kitchen at the back. The walls, once bare and peeling, were now adorned with vibrant colors and covered with patterned wallpaper.
Memories from around the world found their new home here. A tapestry from Morocco draped elegantly over a vintage couch, colorful lanterns from Turkey hung from the ceiling casting soft patterns on the walls, and a collection of framed photos from my travels adorned the walls, each telling a story of adventure and discovery. Natalia had outdone herself, digging through my parents’ storage to bring these treasures to our new home, infusing the space with warmth and personality.
Max watched me closely as I took it all in, his anticipation palpable. “Do you like it?” he asked, his eyes searching mine for approval.
I turned to him, my heart full. “I love it,” I whispered, the words barely capturing the depth of my emotion. “It feels like home.”
He exhaled, relief washing over his face, and pulled me into a hug. “Good, because this is just the beginning. There’s so much more I want to show you.”
I gasped when Max led me to the kitchen. The green cabinets and bright mosaic floor were exactly what I’d envisioned for this space. Emma and I had spent hours combing through inspiration photos as I laid in bed with crackers and Emma sketched. Large terracotta pots and clay vases lined the upper cabinet area, each one reminding me of who I was when I came across it.
That’s the joy about traveling and picking up pieces along the journey. One day, they’ll get to be on display, serving as a reminder of who you once were. I chuckled at the memory of a salsa-dancing addict version of myself as I took in a display of colorful tiles hanging on the wall that we picked up in Havana. I smiled at the worn rug under my feet by the breakfast nook that Natalia and I came across on a severely hungover stroll through a market in Turkey.
“Max, this is absolutely perfect,” I said as my eyes continued to take in all the tiny details.
“Wait until you see upstairs,” he said.
He grabbed my hand and led me back down the hall and up the freshly polished stairs. The wall leading upstairs was covered in mismatched frames, small tapestries, and woven art. It all led to a bright hallway with navy-painted doors.
“Do you want to see our room or the baby’s room first?” Max asked.
“Show me the nursery because I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself from ravaging you if we see our room first,” I said.
Max threw his head back and laughed. “Well, by all means, then,” he said, directing me toward the middle door.
I pushed it open, and tears sprung to my eyes. We’d decided to be surprised about the anatomy of our baby and I hadn’t wanted anything too kitschy anyways. Inside, a deep emerald board and batten flanked each wall, and a gorgeous rug of reds, pinks, and greens covered the floor. An organic rattan shape hung from the ceiling to light the room and a low dresser, already stocked with a few baby necessities, stood to the side.
“Oh my god, I can’t wait to bring our baby home here,” I said through quiet tears.
Max walked in behind me, closing me in with a hug. “Natalia went and picked up your things from your parents. The house is officially ours to stay in,” he said.
“Show me our room,” I said, turning to face him.
I followed him out of the nursery and down the hall. Our room looked over the backyard and spanned the width of the second floor. I pushed open the door and sighed at how beautiful everything was. Warm white walls fell back so the beautiful citron velvet upholstered head and footboard could shine. Lacquered navy nightstands stood on the side of the bed and a massive intricate wooden mirror leaned against the wall.
A tasseled chandelier hung from the ceiling and lit the room with golden dim light. I spun on my heel taking in the room. It would take me days to uncover all the tiny details that Emma put into each of our spaces. My heart was bursting with the love and care that went into putting this space together.
“If there’s anything you want to change, I’m sure?—”
“I don’t want to change a thing,” I said, “I couldn’t have created a better space if I’d done it myself. This is our home, Max. We live here.”
He grinned at me as he leaned against the doorframe. “Yeah, I still don’t think my brain has caught up to it all yet,” he said.
I sat down on the edge of the bed, facing Max. I just looked at him for a minute, my brain trying to piece together the people we were barely over a year ago with who we’ve become. I never would have imagined, in a million years, that the to-do list of my life, that once felt so out of reach, would all fall into my lap so quickly. Staring back at me was a partner, an amazing person to share this wild life with, and the man who would soon be the father of our children.
His dark hair fell into his eyes with a tilt of his head as he pushed himself off the doorframe and filled the space between us. Max’s hand was warm as it cupped my chin and brought my face up to look at him as he stood before me. This man knew exactly how to light a fire in my belly. I could tell with the smallest shift in his bottom eyelid that he was trying to rein in his control.
I kicked my shoes off, brought my bare feet to the ledge that ran the length of the bed, and spread my knees out wide. I let the desire shine through my own eyes as I smirked up at Max. He grinned back at me, a willing participant in our games. Quickly, he dropped to his knees and buried his mouth in my hair, against my neck. I threw my head back as he made his way down the front of my loose dress, his breath warming my collarbone, in between my breasts, and the top of my belly.
