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“I feel the same. I love you. God, I love you so much.”
The watch beeped.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Ready,” she answered.
They held hands as they peered at the indicator.
Finally, Quinn said softly, “I’ll be damned.”
The results window read…a plus sign in big, bold type.
Not the flu after all.
Libby didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“You okay?” he said.
“Uh-huh. I’ll probably freak out once it sinks in.”
“That’ll make two of us, darlin’.”
“Don’t you mean, three of us?”
“Three. Right. God. A baby. We’re havin’ a baby.” His body went ironing board rigid. “Now that we know, get your butt back in bed, pretty mama. I’m callin’ Doc Monroe and you’re goin’ to see her first thing tomorrow. But today you need to rest.”
“But—”
“No buts. I’m gonna make sure you don’t move, even if I hafta hogtie you to the headboard. ’Cept I know how much you love bein’ tied up.”
“Quinn—”
“No arguin’, Lib, I mean it.”
She sighed. “Are you gonna be one of those hovering, overbearing husbands who obsesses about every little thing during this pregnancy?”
A beat passed. “I reckon so.”
Libby leaned into him, grateful to have him standing behind her, holding her up, in every possible way. “I can live with that.”
