He turns me, taking my hands in his. “All right, what name do you have in mind?”
This is something I’ve been thinking a lot about. My name has deep meaning to my parents. My mother’s favorite color and flower are violets, but it’s a derivative of nature and the earth, which they loved. As much as my parents aren’t the models I want to mirror for parenting, I do like that a name has something deeper.
“I’ve been trying to find something that represents us.”
“And you think Brunhilda is a bad choice?”
I roll my eyes. “Be serious.”
He laughs. “All right, I’ll put it on the back burner. Tell me, what do you think represents us?”
My hand rests over his beating heart. “Hope, love, second chances, a phoenix who is reborn.”
Everett leans closer and kisses me softly. “Do you want to name her Hope?”
I shake my head. “No, I want the meaning of her name to be more specific.”
“Why am I now worried?” he jokes.
“Well, there was no way I could pick the name I loved thanks to your last name.”
“My last name?”
He looks confused, as though the baby wouldn’t ... oh, he didn’t think the baby would take his last name.
It looks like I’m not the only one getting a surprise, it seems. “Of course, it’s our baby.”
“But we’re not married.”
I smile, moving my hands up his chest to loop around his neck. “We’re not, but that doesn’t diminish the fact that I want to spend my life with you. A ring or a marriage license isn’t what makes a marriage.”
He laughs again. “Actually, I think it does.”
“As someone who has been married, I can promise, it doesn’t. Love is what does. Commitment, trust, and compromise are the marriage part. The rest of it is just stuff.”
I had the stuff before and it did nothing to keep my marriage together. I’d much rather what we have than a ring and a man who doesn’t honor it.
Everett pulls me tight against him—well, as tight as we can get with my ever-growing belly.
“And what name do you want our daughter to have?”
“I loved the name Imogen—it means second chance—but Imogen Finnegan was ... cruel.”
He shakes his head. “Yeah, could you imagine her in school?”
“God forbid she has even the slightest ginger hair to her—it would be a disaster. Trust me, kids are the worst. I see it daily.”
Even in high school there are some nicknames that these kids can’t recover from. I’d like to make sure I don’t give them any ammunition.
“No Imogen, then.”
“I loved the name Brynn, too, but again, if they shorten her last name to Finn—nope.”
“Please tell me we have a possibility here,” Everett implores.
I smile and nod. “I have one, and if you like it, I really would like to put it on the short list.”
“Okay.”
