I certainly didn’t think he had it in him to change. To be different to the man I knew so well for so long.
But life is funny like that, isn’t it? It doesn’t give you a choice. It picks your moments and it thrusts them upon you. Sometimes I wonder if those hard moments are sent to test us; other times I wonder if they’re sent to hurt us. After all, why would my perfect marriage be thrown into turmoil without a good reason? Why would the man I’d loved for six years suddenly become empty to me? Why would my life and my moments be twisted until I could no longer recognize them?
If life has such a big plan for us, why the hell does it hurt so damned bad?
But before I tell you about the hurt, the testing moments and how they changed me, you have to know how it all began.
CHAPTER 1
My feet tread softly across the polished wooden floor as I make my way to the kitchen. I don’t want to wake Gerard until I’ve made him breakfast. It’s our anniversary today, three years married, six years together, and I want to surprise him. I hum a happy tune as I open the fridge, gathering the ingredients I need to make my famous fluffy pancakes. They’re his favorite. He’s been working a lot lately, which is nothing new, so I’m sure he’ll appreciate them.
“I love it when you sing.”
I spin around, floorboards creaking, to see my husband standing at the counter wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. His lean chest is muscled and bronze, but it’s his face that makes my heart smile—chiseled jaw, blue eyes, soft blond hair. He’s beautiful in the perfect kind of way. The way that isn’t rugged, but definitely still masculine.
“I was going to surprise you.” I smile, moving around the counter to fall into his arms.
“I had the same idea,” he murmurs into my hair. “Only when I woke up to sneak out, I saw you beat me to it.”
I laugh softly. “Great minds.”
He chuckles. “Let me make breakfast. You put your feet up, relax.”
I push up on my tiptoes and kiss his lips. “No way. I love making pancakes. At least let me do this for you today.”
His eyes warm and his hands move down to my stomach where our seven-week-old baby is growing inside me, a creation of us, something we’ve tried so hard for. I had problems and it took a long time to conceive, but finally, we managed to make him or her naturally before having to turn to IVF. I thank God every day for that gift.
“You can make breakfast, but then you’re going to rest. I have a surprise for you later that you’ll need your strength for.”
“You do?” I beam.
“I do.”
“Well then I better get to this breakfast so you can tell me about this surprise sooner.”
He grins and lets me go, and I get back to flipping pancakes.
“You don’t have to work today?” I ask, pouring batter into the hot pan.
“I’m hoping I don’t have to. I asked them to give me the day off but you know how it is—anything can happen.”
I nod. Gerard is a lawyer, and sometimes he gets called in at less than desirable times and there is little he can do about it. People are forever getting into trouble, which means he’s forever working. Sometimes it bothers me, but I try to be the best wife I can and just support him. It’s his dream, and I’m sure when the baby comes along things will change.
At least I hope they will. I push that thought away and keep my smile.
“Well, here’s hoping for a crime-free day,” I say, flipping the pancakes.
“How’re you feeling?”
“Better, much better.”
I spent a little time yesterday feeling slightly off. This baby means the world to both of us, and we’ll do anything to protect it. Sadly, even the slightest cramp has us both panicking. I’m sure that’ll go away once we reach the second trimester but for now we’re both walking around on eggshells.
“Just a flu?” he asks, moving to the coffee machine and pouring himself a cup.
“I think so.”
He helps me serve the pancakes and we sit at our small, wooden round table. I serve him first, and then myself. My stomach can tend to be a little sensitive in the mornings, though that seems to have disappeared completely in the last two days. Maybe it’s finally over. That would make things so much easier; vomiting on the way to work is never pleasant.
“So, what’s my surprise?” I ask between mouthfuls.
Gerard grins and leans down, reaching into his briefcase. He pulls out a small envelope and hands it to me. “I know it’s nothing big, but I remembered how much you’ve wanted to go.”
Letting a little squeal escape my lips, I tear it open, producing two local baseball tickets for today’s game. My squeal becomes happy whoops as I get out of my chair and throw myself onto his lap. I’m a diehard baseball fan, more than most men I meet, and I’ve always wanted to see a game with him. I used to go as a child with my parents, but it’s been a long time since I’ve gone and I can’t think of anything better than spending the day with Gerard at a game. He knows me so well. It doesn’t take me much to find my happy.