Chapter Text
Chapter One
The Day Everything Changed
The day Shane's life changed began like every other Thursday.
There was nothing remarkable about it. Nothing dramatic. Nothing that hinted at the fact that by evening, his entire future would look different.
He woke up just after six, made coffee, answered a few messages, and headed to training. The morning passed in the familiar rhythm that had defined most of his adult life. Practice. Recovery. Meetings. More practice. By the time he left the rink, he was already thinking about dinner and whether Ilya would once again attempt to convince him that pineapple belonged on pizza.
The answer was yes.
The answer was always yes.
His phone buzzed as he walked into the medical clinic.
A new message.
A blurry photograph of a dog sitting outside a coffee shop.
Shane immediately smiled.
A second message appeared.
This dog looks like you.
Another followed seconds later.
Grumpy. Judgmental. Probably steals food.
Shane laughed quietly to himself as he stepped into the elevator.
You're describing yourself, he typed back.
Three dots appeared almost instantly.
Rude.
The smile remained on his face all the way to the examination room.
The quarterly medical evaluation was routine. Athletes underwent them constantly. Blood work. Physical examinations. Endless paperwork.
Nothing exciting.
Nothing unusual.
Nothing capable of changing a person's life.
At least that was what Shane believed as he sat on the examination table, one leg swinging lazily while he scrolled through his phone.
The room smelled faintly of disinfectant.
The fluorescent lights buzzed softly overhead.
Outside the door, footsteps moved up and down the hallway.
Normal.
Everything felt normal.
Then the doctor entered.
And suddenly it didn't.
Shane noticed it immediately.
The hesitation.
The way she stopped just inside the doorway.
The way her eyes moved to him and then away again.
For a moment she simply stood there holding a file against her chest.
Something cold settled in Shane's stomach.
The smile faded from his face.
"Everything okay?"
The doctor didn't answer right away.
Instead, she crossed the room and sat down opposite him.
Slowly.
Too slowly.
The file opened in her lap.
Pages shifted beneath her fingers.
Several seconds passed.
Then several more.
The silence stretched long enough to become uncomfortable.
Shane lowered his phone.
"What happened?"
The doctor looked up.
Her expression held something he couldn't quite identify.
Confusion.
Concern.
Disbelief.
Maybe all three.
"Mr. Hollander," she began carefully, "one of your blood panels came back abnormal."
Shane exhaled.
For a brief moment, relief washed through him.
An abnormal blood panel sounded manageable.
Fixable.
Not ideal, but hardly catastrophic.
"Okay."
"We repeated the testing."
His relief faded slightly.
"Why?"
"We wanted to rule out the possibility of a laboratory error."
A knot formed in his stomach.
"What kind of error?"
The doctor swallowed.
The movement was small.
Barely noticeable.
Yet somehow it terrified him.
When she finally spoke, the words made absolutely no sense.
"You're pregnant."
Silence.
Complete silence.
The world seemed to stop.
Shane stared at her.
Waiting.
Certain he had misheard.
Certain she had misspoken.
Certain there was another explanation.
Instead, the doctor simply watched him.
Waiting for the information to land.
It didn't.
"Sorry," Shane said after several seconds. "What?"
"You're pregnant."
The sentence sounded just as impossible the second time.
The doctor slid several sheets of paper across the desk.
"We confirmed the results multiple times."
Shane looked down.
Numbers.
Charts.
Medical terminology.
One word stood out from everything else.
Pregnant.
He stared at it.
The letters refused to make sense.
Pregnant.
The word looked absurd sitting there on the page.
Impossible.
Terrifying.
Life altering.
Because nobody expects that.
Nobody walks into a routine medical appointment and leaves carrying a secret capable of changing every part of their future.
Nobody expects a single sentence to split their life into before and after.
Yet somehow, that was exactly what had happened.
Pregnant.
The word followed him out of the clinic.
Followed him home.
Followed him into bed that night.
Followed him into every quiet moment afterward.
And the worst part was not the baby.
The worst part was knowing exactly who he wanted to tell.
Ilya.
Chapter Two
Tell Me
The first week was manageable.
Not easy.
Not good.
But manageable.
Shane convinced himself he could handle it.
He had always handled things on his own.
This would be no different.
The doctors wanted more tests.
More appointments.
More monitoring.
Nobody could tell him exactly what was going to happen.
Nobody could promise the pregnancy would be safe.
Nobody could even tell him what tomorrow might look like.
But they also couldn't tell him that everything would go wrong.
There was still uncertainty.
Still possibilities.
Still hope.
And Shane clung to that hope with both hands.
Because the alternative was telling Ilya.
And Shane wasn't ready for that.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
The timing felt too cruel.
Too impossible.
Just weeks earlier they had finally admitted what had been sitting between them for years.
The stolen glances.
The jealousy.
The affection neither of them had wanted to name.
The feelings both of them had been carrying for far longer than they were willing to admit.
For the first time, Shane finally had Ilya.
Not as a teammate.
Not as a friend.
Not as someone standing just out of reach.
He had him.
And for the first time in years, Shane allowed himself to be happy.
Then a doctor sat him down and told him he was pregnant.
The entire situation felt absurd.
Terrifying.
Impossible.
And every time Shane imagined telling Ilya, his mind immediately went to the worst possible outcome.
What if Ilya didn't want this?
What if he looked at Shane and only saw a problem?
A responsibility?
A mistake?
What if the pregnancy was too much?
Too complicated?
Too frightening?
What if the feelings they'd only just confessed weren't strong enough to survive something like this?
The fear followed him everywhere.
What if Ilya left?
The thought became impossible to ignore.
What if Shane finally got him...
And lost him just as quickly?
So he stayed quiet.
Just until he had more answers.
Just until the doctors knew more.
Just until he understood what was happening.
Just a few more days.
That was the lie he told himself.
The first week passed that way.
Quietly.
Painfully.
Manageably.
The second week was harder.
Because secrets never stay still.
They grow.
Every appointment made the truth heavier.
Every test result made the truth larger.
Every conversation with Ilya became another opportunity to tell him.
And another opportunity Shane avoided.
"Everything okay?"
"I'm fine."
"You're sure?"
"Yeah."
The lies came easier than they should have.
That scared him almost as much as the pregnancy.
Because Ilya trusted him.
And every lie felt like a betrayal.
The second week wasn't manageable anymore.
It was tolerable.
Barely.
Like trying to hold a door shut while something on the other side kept pushing harder and harder against it.
Sooner or later it was going to break.
Shane knew it.
Unfortunately, knowing something and doing something about it were two very different things.
By the third week, everything became pathetic.
There was no other word for it.
He was exhausted.
Emotionally.
Physically.
Mentally.
Every time his phone lit up with a text from Ilya, guilt twisted inside his chest.
Every time Ilya smiled at him, Shane felt worse.
Every time Ilya touched his hand, leaned against him, or looked at him with that quiet affection that still made Shane's heart skip, he felt like a fraud.
Because Ilya thought they were finally building something together.
And Shane was keeping the biggest secret of his life.
The worst part wasn't even the lying.
The worst part was watching Ilya slowly change.
At first, Ilya had simply been confused.
Then concerned.
Then worried.
Then hurt.
And somehow that hurt Shane more than anything else.
Because every day that passed seemed to convince Ilya that the distance between them was intentional.
That Shane was pulling away.
That maybe he regretted everything.
That maybe their relationship had been a mistake.
The thought made Shane sick.
But every time he tried to tell the truth, fear stopped him.
Fear of the pregnancy.
Fear of the future.
Fear of losing the person he loved.
And so the days continued.
One after another.
A collection of unfinished conversations and unanswered questions.
Until finally, three weeks after Shane first heard the word pregnant, Ilya reached the end of his patience.
And everything fell apart.
Or perhaps, for the first time, everything finally began to come together.
Shane arrived at the apartment just after practice.
The entire drive home had been spent rehearsing conversations that never seemed to reach an ending.
Maybe tonight.
Maybe tomorrow.
Maybe after the next appointment.
Maybe after he had more answers.
Maybe after he understood what was happening himself.
Every excuse sounded reasonable when he was alone.
Every excuse fell apart the moment he imagined looking into Ilya's eyes.
By the time he reached the apartment, his head hurt.
His shoulders ached.
And the knot of anxiety living permanently in his chest felt tighter than ever.
All he wanted was a shower.
A few minutes of silence.
Maybe enough courage to make it through another evening pretending everything was fine.
He unlocked the door and stepped inside.
The apartment was quiet.
Almost too quiet.
"Ilya?"
No answer.
Shane frowned.
Normally Ilya would have appeared within seconds.
Usually with a terrible joke.
Or food.
Or both.
He kicked off his shoes and closed the door behind him.
The lock clicked.
Then another sound followed.
Click.
Shane froze.
Slowly, he turned around.
Ilya was standing by the door.
One hand still resting on the lock.
The expression on his face immediately made Shane's stomach drop.
This wasn't normal.
This wasn't good.
"Ilya?"
"No."
Shane blinked.
"What?"
"No more excuses."
The words landed heavily between them.
For a moment neither moved.
Neither looked away.
Shane tried to laugh.
It came out weak.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Good."
Ilya pointed toward the couch.
"Sit."
Shane stared.
"No."
"Sit."
"Ilya—"
"Sit."
Something in his voice made Shane stop.
Not because it was loud.
Because it wasn't.
If anything, it was too calm.
The kind of calm that only appeared when someone had finally reached their breaking point.
Shane looked at him carefully.
Really looked.
And immediately wished he hadn't.
Because Ilya looked exhausted.
His eyes were shadowed.
His jaw tense.
Like he hadn't slept properly in days.
Like something had been eating him alive.
The realization filled Shane with immediate guilt.
"I don't have time for this."
"Good."
Ilya folded his arms.
"Because neither do I."
Shane grabbed his bag again.
"I'm leaving."
"No."
The answer came instantly.
Firm.
Certain.
Absolute.
"Ilya."
"No."
"I said I'm leaving."
"And I said no."
For the first time in weeks, anger flashed across Shane's face.
"What gives you the right—"
"What gives you the right?"
The interruption hit like a slap.
The room went silent.
Because suddenly Ilya wasn't calm anymore.
The frustration was visible now.
The hurt too.
Three weeks of it.
Three weeks of unanswered questions.
Three weeks of watching someone he loved slowly disappear.
"What gives you the right to shut me out for almost a month?"
Shane opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
"What gives you the right to decide everything by yourself?"
Still nothing.
"What gives you the right to make me stand here every day pretending I don't notice something is wrong?"
The guilt hit so hard it was almost physical.
"Ilya..."
"No."
His voice cracked.
Just slightly.
Enough to make Shane's heart stop.
"No, not this time."
For a second, neither spoke.
The apartment suddenly felt smaller.
The air heavier.
Then Ilya looked away.
Like he couldn't bear looking at Shane anymore.
And somehow that hurt worse than the shouting.
"Just answer one question."
Shane swallowed.
"Ilya..."
"One question."
The silence stretched.
Painful.
Endless.
Then slowly, Ilya looked back up.
And the sight nearly shattered Shane.
His eyes were red.
Not from crying.
From exhaustion.
From sleepless nights.
From worrying too much for too long.
"Are you leaving me?"
The question hit harder than anything else could have.
Shane stared.
His brain struggling to process the words.
"What?"
"Are you leaving me?"
His voice cracked completely this time.
Raw.
Vulnerable.
Terrified.
And suddenly Shane understood everything.
Every unanswered text.
Every awkward conversation.
Every look Ilya had given him over the last three weeks.
This wasn't anger.
This wasn't frustration.
This was fear.
Pure fear.
The kind that only came from caring too much.
"Of course not."
The answer came immediately.
Without hesitation.
Without thought.
Because it was the easiest truth he'd spoken in weeks.
Ilya closed his eyes.
For one brief second relief crossed his face.
Then it disappeared.
Replaced by confusion.
Pain.
Heartbreak.
"Then what is it?"
The words exploded out of him.
Three weeks of fear finally escaping.
"What did I do wrong?"
"You didn't do anything."
"Then why won't you answer my texts?"
Shane looked away.
"Why do you keep disappearing?"
Silence.
"Why do you leave every room I walk into?"
More silence.
Each one worse than the last.
"Did you find someone?"
"What?"
"Did you?"
"No."
"Then are you tired of me?"
"No."
"Do you not like me anymore?"
The question came out smaller than the others.
Quieter.
More fragile.
And somehow it hurt the most.
Because there was no accusation behind it.
Only sadness.
Only fear.
Only someone desperately trying to understand where everything had gone wrong.
"Ilya..."
"I don't understand."
His eyes filled with tears.
And suddenly Shane couldn't breathe.
Because he had done this.
Not intentionally.
Never intentionally.
But he had still done it.
"I don't know what happened."
The words were barely audible now.
"Three weeks ago everything was fine."
A pause.
"You called."
Another.
"You stayed over."
Another.
"You looked at me."
His voice broke.
Completely.
"I thought we were okay."
The tears escaped before he could stop them.
And that was it.
That was the moment something inside Shane finally collapsed.
Because while he had spent weeks trying to protect Ilya from fear...
Ilya had spent those same weeks believing he was being abandoned.
Believing he wasn't enough.
Believing Shane regretted them.
The realization was devastating.
The tears came instantly.
Fast.
Uncontrollable.
"Oh God."
Shane covered his face.
His shoulders shaking.
"I thought I was protecting you."
Confusion crossed Ilya's face.
"Protecting me from what?"
The question hung between them.
And suddenly Shane was exhausted.
Too exhausted to keep lying.
Too exhausted to keep carrying everything alone.
Too exhausted to keep watching Ilya suffer because of his silence.
The truth rose into his throat.
Terrifying.
Life changing.
Impossible.
But also strangely relieving.
Because for the first time in three weeks, he didn't want to carry it alone anymore.
He looked at Ilya.
Really looked at him.
The man he'd spent years loving.
The man he had finally gotten.
The man he had been terrified of losing.
And before fear could stop him—
Before doubt could interfere—
Before he could change his mind—
The words escaped.
"I'm pregnant."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
The room froze.
Neither of them moved.
Neither of them breathed.
For a moment it felt as though the entire world had stopped turning.
Ilya simply stared at him.
Blinking once.
Then twice.
As though his brain had completely forgotten how language worked.
Shane looked away immediately.
His heart hammering against his ribs.
Waiting.
Waiting for confusion.
For panic.
For rejection.
For disappointment.
Waiting for everything to fall apart.
Instead—
"Oh my God."
Shane's stomach dropped.
There it was.
The reaction.
The moment.
The beginning of the end.
Then Ilya took one step forward.
And another.
His eyes suddenly filling with tears.
Not horror.
Not anger.
Relief.
Pure relief.
"I thought you were dying."
Shane blinked.
"What?"
"I thought you were dying."
The tears spilled freely down Ilya's face now.
His voice shaking.
"I thought it was cancer."
Another tear.
"I thought you were sick."
Another.
"I thought you were leaving."
A broken laugh escaped him.
"You idiot."
And suddenly Shane started crying too.
Because out of every reaction he had imagined...
He had never imagined this one.
Never imagined someone being relieved.
Never imagined someone looking at him like losing him would be the worst thing imaginable.
Never imagined being loved like that.
"I thought I was losing you."
The words shattered whatever defenses Shane still had left.
And suddenly neither of them cared about pride.
Or embarrassment.
Or dignity.
Because the next second they were crossing the room at the same time.
And for the first time in three weeks—
Neither of them felt alone anymore.
Chapter Three
The Walk
The morning after everything changed, Shane woke up feeling lighter.
Not completely.
There was still a baby.
Still doctors.
Still a future neither of them fully understood.
But for the first time in weeks, he wasn't carrying the weight alone.
The secret was gone.
Ilya knew.
And somehow, impossibly, everything hadn't fallen apart.
If anything, it felt stronger.
By late afternoon they found themselves walking along the beach.
Neither of them had suggested it.
It had simply happened.
One moment they were driving with no destination in mind.
The next they were kicking off their shoes and walking along the shoreline.
The ocean stretched endlessly beside them.
The waves rolled lazily toward the sand.
For a while neither spoke.
The silence felt comfortable.
Earned.
Then suddenly Ilya laughed.
"What?"
Ilya shook his head.
"I still can't believe it."
Shane groaned immediately.
"The baby?"
"The baby."
"You're obsessed."
"A little."
"A little?"
"A lot."
Despite himself, Shane smiled.
The grin on Ilya's face looked almost ridiculous.
Like he was carrying around a happiness too large to fit inside him.
For several moments they continued walking.
Then unexpectedly—
"When did you know?"
Shane glanced over.
"Know what?"
"That you loved me."
The question nearly stopped him in his tracks.
The ocean suddenly seemed very interesting.
"Seriously?"
"Seriously."
"I am not answering that."
"You are."
"No."
"You absolutely are."
Shane sighed dramatically.
Unfortunately, he was already smiling.
"Probably years ago."
The confession came quietly.
Honest.
"I just didn't want to admit it."
Ilya's smile softened.
"Years?"
"Don't get excited."
"Years?"
"You are impossible."
The grin widened.
"How many years?"
"I'm leaving."
"We're on a beach."
"Then I'm walking faster."
Ilya laughed.
The sound carried out over the water.
Bright.
Warm.
Happy.
The kind of laugh Shane never got tired of hearing.
Then unexpectedly, Ilya became quieter.
"I think I knew a long time ago too."
The words made Shane look up.
For once, there was no teasing.
No jokes.
Just honesty.
"I just never thought I had a chance."
Shane stopped walking.
"What?"
Ilya shrugged.
Like the confession was nothing.
Like it hadn't just completely rearranged Shane's understanding of reality.
"You always seemed out of reach."
"Me?"
"Yeah."
"That's ridiculous."
"I know."
They stared at each other.
Then simultaneously burst out laughing.
Because somehow they had spent years believing exactly the same thing.
Years.
Two complete idiots.
Standing on a beach.
In love.
With a baby on the way.
The absurdity of it all was almost overwhelming.
Eventually the laughter faded.
The smiles didn't.
"I was terrified."
Ilya admitted it quietly.
"Last night."
Shane's chest tightened.
"So was I."
"I thought you were leaving."
The words hurt.
Not because they were angry.
Because they were true.
"I know."
A pause.
Then softly—
"I wasn't."
"I know that now."
The ocean continued rolling onto the shore.
Steady.
Endless.
For the first time since everything had happened, neither of them seemed afraid of the silence.
Then Ilya reached for Shane's hand.
Their fingers intertwined naturally.
Effortlessly.
Like they'd always belonged that way.
And maybe they had.
Neither let go.
Together they continued walking.
The future waiting somewhere ahead of them.
Uncertain.
Terrifying.
Beautiful.
And for the first time, they were finally walking toward it together.
Chapter 3:
Bean
The next three weeks passed in a blur.
Not because they were busy.
Although they were.
Not because life suddenly became easier.
Because it absolutely did not.
But because for the first time in a long time, Shane was happy.
Genuinely happy.
The kind of happy that sneaks up on you when you aren't looking.
The kind that appears in ordinary moments.
Morning coffee.
Shared blankets.
Late night conversations.
The sound of someone laughing in the next room.
The cottage became their little world.
Far away from reporters.
Far away from teammates.
Far away from questions neither of them were ready to answer.
Just Shane.
Ilya.
And a baby that was somehow changing everything.
The pregnancy itself was significantly less charming.
Morning sickness quickly became Shane's least favorite invention in human history.
Unfortunately, his body seemed determined to experience all of it.
Some mornings started with nausea.
Others started with exhaustion.
A few memorable mornings started with both.
The first time Shane ran out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom, Ilya followed so quickly he nearly tripped over a chair.
The second time, he was waiting outside the bathroom door with water.
By the third time, he had apparently developed an entire emergency response system.
It was both ridiculous and strangely sweet.
"I am fine."
"You just threw up."
"I am still fine."
"You almost fell over."
"Technically, I caught myself."
"You grabbed a wall."
"The wall helped."
Ilya looked unconvinced.
Shane looked offended.
Neither won the argument.
Mostly because there wasn't an argument.
Just concern.
Constant concern.
The kind Shane wasn't entirely used to.
If he looked tired, Ilya noticed.
If he skipped a meal, Ilya noticed.
If he stayed quiet for too long, Ilya definitely noticed.
At one point Shane woke up from a nap to discover a blanket tucked around him and a glass of water sitting beside the couch.
When he asked about it, Ilya denied everything.
Which only confirmed his guilt.
The weeks settled into a comfortable rhythm.
Doctor appointments.
Lazy afternoons.
Long walks.
Movie nights that usually ended with one of them falling asleep halfway through.
The future still felt overwhelming.
But it no longer felt impossible.
And slowly, almost without realizing it, they started talking about the baby as though Bean was already part of their lives.
The nickname happened on a Tuesday.
A terrible Tuesday.
One that began with nausea and ended with Shane questioning every decision he had ever made.
It started innocently enough.
Ilya was sitting at the kitchen table scrolling through one of his pregnancy apps.
Shane was eating crackers.
Or attempting to.
The crackers were winning.
Suddenly, Ilya sat upright.
"Oh."
Shane immediately regretted that sound.
"What?"
"The baby is the size of a bean."
Silence.
Then—
"No."
Ilya looked up.
"What?"
"No."
"The app says bean."
"I don't care."
"A bean."
"No."
"A tiny bean."
"No."
Ilya grinned.
The grin of a man who had already decided he was right.
"Bean."
"No."
"Bean."
"No."
"Bean."
The argument lasted nearly twenty minutes.
It accomplished absolutely nothing.
By dinner, the baby was Bean.
By bedtime, it was impossible to call them anything else.
And somehow the nickname stuck.
Not because Shane liked it.
Because he secretly did.
Although he would deny that until the day he died.
Life continued.
Appointments came and went.
Weeks passed.
The cottage slowly filled with evidence of the future.
Parenting books appeared on tables.
Tiny clothes appeared in shopping bags.
Lists appeared on refrigerators.
And one spare room slowly began transforming into a nursery.
The process was slow.
Mostly because neither of them actually knew what they were doing.
But that didn't stop them.
One evening, after spending nearly an hour arguing over paint samples, they finally agreed on something.
A rare and historic event.
Shane immediately considered documenting it.
Weeks later, the nursery was still unfinished.
There were boxes everywhere.
Half assembled furniture.
A mountain of instruction manuals neither of them intended to read properly.
The room looked less like a nursery and more like a construction site.
Which somehow made them both ridiculously proud.
One night, Shane woke up and immediately noticed something was missing.
Warmth.
He frowned.
Still half asleep.
His hand reached across the mattress.
Empty.
The other side of the bed was cold.
For a moment, he assumed Ilya had gone to the kitchen.
Or the bathroom.
Or was wandering around the cottage because sleep had abandoned him again.
Then he noticed a faint light beneath the nursery door.
Curious, Shane climbed out of bed.
The cottage was quiet.
The clock read a little after two in the morning.
The hallway creaked softly beneath his feet as he made his way toward the light.
The nursery door stood partially open.
And inside, Ilya sat cross legged on the floor.
Surrounded by boxes.
Tiny blankets.
Picture books.
And enough unfinished furniture to build a small village.
The sight alone almost made Shane laugh.
Almost.
Ilya hadn't noticed him.
Completely focused on the room around him.
For a while, he simply sat there.
Looking around.
Thinking.
Smiling occasionally to himself.
Then he spoke.
"Hey, Bean."
Shane froze.
The smile immediately returned to Ilya's face.
A ridiculous smile.
A happy smile.
The kind that made him look younger.
"Papa had practice today."
A pause.
"Scored twice."
Another.
"Don't let Dad tell you otherwise."
The grin widened.
"He says the second goal wasn't impressive."
A thoughtful silence.
"He's lying."
Shane pressed a hand over his mouth.
Inside the nursery, Ilya continued.
"I don't know if you can hear me."
A laugh escaped him.
"Honestly, I don't even know if that's possible yet."
He glanced around the room.
At the crib still waiting to be assembled.
At the books stacked against the wall.
At the future slowly taking shape around him.
"But if you can..."
His smile softened.
"I just wanted to say hi."
The words were simple.
Nothing dramatic.
Nothing profound.
Just genuine.
And somehow that made them perfect.
For several moments, Ilya continued talking.
About practice.
About paint colors.
About how difficult furniture instructions should probably be illegal.
Normal things.
Ordinary things.
The kind of things parents probably talked about every day.
Eventually, the conversation faded.
The room grew quiet again.
And Shane remained standing in the doorway.
Watching.
Listening.
Feeling something warm settle inside his chest.
Because this wasn't some dramatic moment.
There were no grand speeches.
No life changing revelations.
Just Ilya.
Sitting on the nursery floor at two in the morning.
Talking to a baby the size of a bean.
As though Bean was already listening.
Already loved.
Already part of the family.
A small smile appeared on Shane's face.
Then another.
And standing there in the soft glow of the nursery light, he found himself thinking that maybe this was what happiness looked like.
Not grand gestures.
Not dramatic declarations.
Just ordinary moments shared with the right people.
A future slowly being built one day at a time.
One paint can.
One baby book.
One ridiculous nickname at a time