Our scheduled departure isn’t for a few more hours, and even then, I have half a mind to cancel it and stick around here for a few more days. Something about going home to an empty town house devoid of Scarlett’s blaring pop music, shuffling sneakers, and toast crumbs in the kitchen makes me want to linger in this place a little longer. Besides, the hectic schedule that awaits us back in the city isn’t going anywhere. Work will be there when we get back.
“What do you think about naming him William?” Elle asks, turning to me. “We could call him Liam for short. It’d be a way to honor your brother while also letting him be his own person and blaze his own trail.”
I contemplate her suggestion in silence.
For months, we’ve been mulling over a mile-long list of monikers, researching meanings and scribbling the ones that go well with our last name. We’ve come close to settling on a few, but ultimately we end up with reservations and go back to the drawing board. The names never feel right. They’re never special enough. They never give us that spark of contented perfection we’re looking for.
I thought about suggesting it to her before, but I know this woman’s heart, and she’d have said yes for the sole purpose of making me happy. This child is just as much hers as it is mine, and his name should be a reflection of that.
“It’s brilliant,” I say, settling into the idea. “Liam it is.”
Bringing her hand to my lips, I deposit a kiss.
“I love you,” she says.
“I love you more.”
“It’s not a competition . . . ,” she teases.
“You’re right,” I say. “It’s not a competition. It’s simply the truth.”