“We don’t know yet.”
“I want a girl. So she’s smart and pretty like her mama.” I reach for her, take the photo of our baby from her fingers and place it on the coffee table before I pull her into my lap and hold her close.
“I want a boy so he’s strong and handsome like his father,” Amanda says, her head nestling into the crook of my shoulder.
“Don’t forget smart,” I remind her.
“And smart.” She holds her hand out, fingers splayed, staring at the tiny ring on her finger as she sighs. “I love this ring even more than my engagement ring.”
I squeeze her close, resting my chin on top of her head. “Why?”
“There’s so much more meaning behind this ring. The promise we made to each other. Turns out it all came true.”
“Yeah, it did. I’m a lucky son of a bitch, knowing you’re mine forever,” I tell her, making her laugh.
And I mean it. She is mine.
Forever.