I began to nod, and he chose that moment to leap over the bed.

I screamed in surprise and ran. I wasn’t even sure why I was running, but I was down the hallway, through the living room, and on the far side of the kitchen island in seconds. When I spun to face him, he wasn’t even chasing me.

“You’re pretty fast,” he said easily, walking down the hall. He’d somehow found the time to put his boxers back on. “But should you really be running like that while you’re with child?”

My mouth dropped open in surprise. “With child?” I asked.

“You’re also naked,” he said, raising one eyebrow and pointing at me, his hand making a little circle.

I huffed and crossed my arms over my breasts.

“Come on,” he said, reaching out his hand. “I won’t get you.”

“I don’t believe you,” I replied, staying on my own side of the island.

“Promise,” he said, his eyes crinkled with laughter. “I stopped thinking about payback when I was watching your ass bounce as you ran away.”

“You’re awful,” I said, moving toward him to lace my fingers with his.

“I have a healthy attraction to my wife,” he replied, wrapping his arms around my waist as he danced me around the kitchen. “Nothing awful about that.”

“I guess not,” I agreed.

Our dance slowed until we were swaying, our feet barely moving.

“Hey, Alex,” I said quietly.

“What’s up, sweetheart?”

“I don’t regret marrying you,” I murmured, kissing his bare chest. “I’m sorry for what I said at the hospital.”

He pulled me closer and kissed the top of my head. “It’s already forgotten.”

*  *  *

After moving past the stress of telling our families about the baby, I felt my excitement grow a little more each day. I couldn’t help it. My clothes were getting a little snug, and I hadn’t dealt with any nausea since my visit to the hospital. Even my exhaustion seemed to be getting better as long as I went to bed before eleven.

Alex and I grew closer every day. I was always learning new things about him, some that I liked (he always threw his laundry straight into the hamper) and some that I didn’t (his socks were almost always inside out, and I had to fix them before I threw them in the wash). He was unflaggingly easygoing. Nothing seemed to bother him. Even when I did something like accidentally wash a pen with his uniforms, leaving blue splotches on everything, he didn’t get mad about it. He’d just make a joke and move on even though I knew it must have frustrated him.