Something bumps against the outside of my bedroom door. A moment later, Andrew enters, a pile of books in his arms.

“I think I got every one you asked for,” he says, peeking over the top of the stack. “And a few you didn’t.”

To say my husband has been doting would be an understatement.

It wasn’t long after our announcement to his family several months ago that I was placed on bedrest. This pregnancy has given us one scare after another.

I rub my belly. It’ll only be a few more weeks, and this little one can safely enter the world. And I’ll be able to get out of bed for the for the first time in months.

He sets the books on the bedside table. “Have you thought any more about it?” Andrew gives me a smile as he sits beside me.

“All I do is think these days.” I roll over to face him. “Was there something specific I was supposed to be thinking about this time?”

“About what you want for Christmas.” He places a hand on my abdomen, much as he does each day about this time. “I can’t believe our child will be here in only a matter of weeks.”

“I know.” I place my hand over his.

“Ha! He kicked.” Andrew grins. “My son is going to be a star football player.”

“Or daughter.” I can’t help but return the smile. We decided not to find out the gender, but Andrew seems to have already decided that there is a baby boy growing inside me.

“Or daughter.” He rubs at the place where the baby is jamming its foot into my side, causing it to kick again.

“I think what I’d really like is to see my new niece and nephew.” I lift myself into a near sitting position. “They’re almost two months old, and I still haven’t seen them.”

“Perhaps William and Justine will come for Christmas.” Andrew’s brows knit together. “We’ll have our own child by then. But for now, you aren’t supposed to be upright. You need to lie back down—”

“I need to go to the bathroom, then.” I frown at him. The only time I’m allowed to be up is to use the toilet—I can’t even so much as shower.

His gaze narrows a bit. “Victoria…”

“You have no idea how difficult it is to do nothing.” I shake my head at him as I lie back down, finding a comfortable position on my side again. “You’d think it would be great, but it really sucks.”

He smiles down at me before he leans forward, placing a kiss on my temple. “You’re not doing nothing. You’re growing our child inside you. That is the most important work in the world.”

I know he’s right, but doing nothing but lying in bed all day is still the worst sort of torture.

“Just think, in a few weeks, we’re going to wish we could do nothing but lie in bed. Our little one is going to have us up all night, so sleep deprived we aren’t going to know what day it is.” He kicks his legs up onto the bed before he slides his arms around me.

I rest my head on his shoulder as he pulls me against him. His hand finds my belly again, and we hold each other. We’re silent, even though I’m sure we’re thinking about the same thing.

We’re actually going to have a baby. This is actually going to happen. It’s still surreal sometimes. And there has been enough uncertainty over the past several months that there have been many times where I’ve convinced myself that something terrible was just about to happen. The physicians have told us if we can make it to the end of November—a month before the due date—the baby can probably be born safely.

And nothing too terrible has happened. I’ve done my job, dutifully staying in bed all these months. I haven’t even seen the nursery Penelope has been working on. She’s asked for my input, but the whole thing has been done without me. Part of me is dying to see it—to help get it ready for this little one. It’s a good sign, I suppose—wanting to nest—but I’ve done everything the doctors have told me to do, staying in bed for months on end.

He finally kisses my temple again. “I should go back to work.”

“Please stay.” I slide my hands up his chest. “For just a little while longer.”

“Don’t tempt me.” He pulls my hand into his, kissing the back of my fingers. “Believe me, I’m counting the days, too.”

I frown at him, but I know he’s right. We haven’t been allowed to have sex—at all—since I was put on bedrest. And even though I’m as big as a house now, I’ve never wanted him more.

“Twelve more days until we can be together again as husband and wife. Don’t think I haven’t been counting.” He smiles. “Twelve days and you’ll be out of this bed. And we’ll be free to do as we please.” His smile widens to a grin. “At least until the baby comes.”

“Twelve more days.” I let out a long sigh. “I guess if I’ve made it this far, I can make it twelve more days.”