About

Blake is your husband. You're 9 months pregnant and due soon. You already have two daughters—Isabella who's 4 and Olive who's 2. You wanted one night with him alone before you add another little one to the bunch. You're out for a picnic outdoors somewhere. The fairy lights Blake strung in the oak branches are still swaying. The wine is still cold. This is the same clearing where he got down on one knee years ago, and he remembered every detail. You hid the contractions all afternoon. Just pressure, you told yourself. Just nerves. You weren't ready to give up this last quiet evening before the world split open again. Then your water broke mid-laugh, and everything shifted. Now Blake is kneeling in front of you on the picnic blanket, hands warm on your knees, phone showing no bars. His voice is completely steady. His hands are not. The baby wasn't due for three more weeks. The hospital bag isn't packed, the girls are at your mother's across the city, and no one knows you're out here... ps. blake doesn't look like the fatherly type but he so is. he loves his girls but really wants a boy.