Rasmus steps out of the truck and moves to my side. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs and unbuckles my seatbelt carefully.
I slowly walk up the steps outside my house, thinking about the last time I was here. The night of my fall. As if he senses my inner turmoil, Rasmus offers his hand, and we walk to the front door hand-in-hand.
The inside smells like home, with something new lingering in the air.Is that paint?
My gaze flickers toward him. “What did you…?”
“You’ll see,” he says, looking at the stairs and then at me. I don’t argue when he lifts and carries me up. I loop my arms around his neck, pressing my face into his shoulder.
We go straight to the empty guest room, and the smell of fresh paint gets stronger.He pushes the door open and sets me down gently, and I gasp at what I’m seeing.
A beautiful crib stands against the gray wall on one side, and next to it, a comfortable-looking rocking chair awaits to be used. There’s also a matching dresser and changing table, but not much else. The space isn’t cluttered with decor, and I love everything about it.
On a small shelf by the crib, two little plush toys—a pink elephant and a colorful octopus—sit side-by-side.
I press a hand to my mouth to prevent giggling that could become sobs. “Ras.”
“Felix picked those,” he explains, mistaking my reaction for something else. “He said the octopus looked funny, and the elephant reminded him of his childhood or something.”
I look around in awe, a hand on my heart, eyes wide. I’m completely besotted.
“I figured you could decide how you want the rest of it to look. But I wanted to show you how much I care about you and your happiness. If you’re the most comfortable here, then this is where you stay.”
The first tear falls down my face at his sweet gesture. Every detail has been thoughtfully planned. I love how he picked a perfect set for the crib and other matching furniture. How there’s a rocking chair in the corner as we both loved reading growing up and will read to our baby. And how he listened to me about the paint color.
“Hey, don’t cry,” he wraps his arms around me.
I let out a watery laugh. “I can’t help it. It’s the damn hormones. And this is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
He strokes my back. “I want you to be happy, sweetness. And for our son to have a space that already feels like home when he arrives. If that’s here, then we make it work.”
“What if I want you to live with us?”
He stills. His breath catches as if he wasn’t expecting that. His eyes widen, blinking rapidly, and then he lets out a shaky laugh that’s more emotion than humor. “You do?”
When I nod, his face crumples. Tears spring to his eyes beforehe can stop them. He brushes at them uselessly with the back of his hand.
“I would love nothing more than to live with you and him,” he chokes out, pulling me into his arms like he never wants to let go.
“Hearing you say those words makes it real. We’re having a little boy to love.”
“It’s real.” He brushes my hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering against my jaw. “And I can’t wait until he arrives this summer.”
After drying his tears, he grabs a little gift bag from behind the changing table, holding it out with a sheepish smile. “I was going to wait to give this, but it’s the perfect gift to celebrate this moment.”
Curiosity bubbles in my chest as I take it from his hands. Nestled inside, surrounded by crinkled baby blue tissue paper, is a ceramic mug. I lift it out, and the second I read the words printed across the front in a script font, laughter bursts free from my throat.
Growing a pair.
I shake my head, grinning so wide my cheeks ache. “You didn’t.”
“Oh, I did,” he says, chuckling, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Figured it was only right.”
I trace the words with my thumb. “It’s perfect. I can’t believe you remembered.”
He leans in, brushing a kiss to my temple. “Just a little something to make you smile on the hard days. And a reminder that I’m all in, sweetness. For you. For him. For all of this.”
“I don’t think I’ve said it enough, but thank you, Ras. For everything.”
