“Wait,” I cut in, my heart slamming into my ribs. “A girl and a boy? Are there like . . . two of them?”
Banner’s laugh bounces off the library walls, and her body shakes against mine.
“You’re an idiot.” She smiles up at me and shakes her head. “I have no idea if there’s one, two, three—‘”
“Shit, Ban.” I draw a deep breath and exhale heavily. “Just stop with multiples. I’m still wrapping my head around one.”
“But you’re happy?” Hesitation reins the excitement in her eyes. “I mean about the baby?”
I’m screwing this up already. I’m one scared son of a bitch. I have no idea if I can do this. Parents nurture. The closest I’ve ever come to nurturing anything is building a baller’s career. I don’t coddle or hand-hold.
But I’m honest. Ruthless, yes, but honest with it.
And I do believe in hard work.
And I know I have the capacity to love because I love Banner and my family, my closest friends.
Those seem like things I could pass on; things I could instill in a kid. Maybe I could start there.
“Happy doesn’t even begin to describe it,” I finally answer. “You’re the only woman crazy enough to marry me, and I guess you’re the only one crazy enough to let me father her kid.”
We laugh together for a second, but looking at her, seeing the fireworks splash color through the library window across her face, I’m humbled to have another year with her. A new year. A new chapter of life with a woman I never thought I’d deserve.
“I love you, Ban.” I shift my hands from her hips to the plane of her stomach. “And I already love our baby.”
My words chase all hesitation from her eyes, from her expression, and that feeling that surged through me when she declared the news at the stroke of midnight, it’s mirrored in the look she gives me. And I have a name for it now.
It’s joy.