“What about Willow?”

Theo shakes his head. “No, too out there. That’s something a granola couple would pick.”

The laugh bubbles up from my throat. “Ohhkay. How about Corinne?”

Now he makes a gagging noise. “That has New England WASP written all over it.”

I frown but agree. “Eh, you’re kind of right.”

“Why do we have to choose a name now? Why can’t we wait for the baby to be born and then decide what name she looks like?”

My face must horror the expression I feel inside. “Our baby can’t come into this world without a name! A name holds meaning, strength! Our girl is going to be a fighter, a miracle, and deserves a moniker that showcases that.”

Theo relents, squeezing my shoulder as he holds me tight to him. “I suppose you’re right.”

We walk along the beach, our gloved hands grasping tight to each other. The shores are deserted in the middle of January, not that our beach outside the cottage ever really got foot traffic.

The wind was mild today, and the sun had actually graced us with its presence, so we’d decided to take a walk. My baby bump protrudes from the middle of my winter coat, which I could no longer zipper up. I’d layered on long sleeve after long sleeve and topped it with a sweater and a scarf. Theo was in his usual beanie and down parka, his beard shielding the skin on his face from the cold breeze.

“It feels good to walk.” I breathe contentedly, staring up at the bright blue sky.

“Do your feet hurt? Tell me and we can turn back.” He had his worried dad expression on.

I smiled. “I’m fine, my back is a little sore but I think that’s from a week of make-up sex, not walking.”

I think I made Theo blush a little. He could demand dirty, dirty things of me in the bedroom, but his cheeks went pink when I mentioned sex from my good girl mouth. My mystery man.

“How about a name derived from the ocean?” Theo suggests.

I ponder it. “Actually, that would be kind of perfect.”

“Madison?” he asks.

I scrunch up my nose. “As in Daryl Hannah’s character in Splash? Um, no.”

Theo laughs. “Yeah, okay, you caught me. I was just a sucker for that mermaid romance.”

We walk along, both quiet for some time as the sand crunches beneath our shoes. A random bird putters along our path here or there, and in the distance, a boat engine roars to life.

“How about Dorian?” Theo finally breaks the silence.

My mind turns the name over, smoothing its syllables like the ocean does a shell.

“Dorian … I like that.”

“There used to be a boat in the dock where my parents kept theirs. It was named Dorian. One day, I asked my father why, and he told me that it meant ‘of the sea’ in Greek.”

I knew how special it was for the name of our daughter to have a connection with Theo’s parents.

“I love it. Dorian.” I palmed my bump, rubbing low where I’d felt her foot this morning.

“Can I ask you something?” Theo lets go of my hand and stands still.

I have to back up a step to where he stopped. “Hmm?”

“Why did you take your ring off?”

From his pocket, he produces my wedding rings. The engagement ring, a rose gold vintage setting that belonged to my grandmother, topped with a three-carat diamond that was also hers. And then my wedding band, a matching rose gold diamond pave circle that Theo paid for with his own money even though I begged him not to.

I hold up my hand, showing him. “My fingers are too swollen from the baby. I’m becoming a giant blob.”

His free hand cups my cheek. “You’re more beautiful than you’ve ever been.”

And then he drops to one knee in front of me.

“What are you doing?” My heart skips a beat in my chest.

My handsome, bearded husband looks up at me from where he’s kneeling in the sand.

“This is the exact spot where I asked you to marry me almost six years ago. I knew from the moment I saw you that I would fall in love with you. And I have. Over and over again, even through the toughest of odds. These might not fit on your fingers right now, but it’s only because you’re carrying our miracle, our little girl. Even still, I want to ask you to be my wife. Again. Be married to me, Imogen. Make me the happiest man for the rest of my life.”

I look up to see the position of the house, and he’s right. It’s the exact spot. My head swivels quickly back to him, in front of me, with my rings held up like he’s actually proposing. It’s a fresh chance … that’s what he’s giving us. Not a new start, but a turn of a page. A patch of clean sand after the waves of a storm have ravaged the beach.

“Of course I will.”

There is no other answer I’d ever consider.