We’re watching The Princess Bride on the couch while eating mint chocolate chip ice cream straight from the carton, passing the pint back and forth. It had been a long day at the office, and I was grateful for some downtime. My back is killing me.

“I have bad news,” Luke says, while running his warm hand gently over my bare stomach. This has become a nightly ritual for us as Luke tries to bond with Little Man. Apparently, he read it in a book somewhere.

Or maybe it was the fruit app.

“What’s the bad news?”

“I think I found your first stretch mark,” he teases, lightly tracing his calloused finger on my lower belly above my left thigh.

“You have got to be kidding me!” I screech, trying to lift my belly and bend forward simultaneously in order to see the blasted line. I feel like I’m attempting an impossible position from the Kama Sutra.

“Apparently the coconut butter was a bust,” Luke teases.

I had been religiously putting it on twice a day after reading online that it prevented stretch marks.

“Dammit!” I yell, finally finding the proper angle and seeing the bane of my existence.

Luke laughs at my overreaction. “Pretty sure stretch marks come along with the territory, Liv,” he teases.

I scowl in his direction. Steam may or may not be coming out of my ears.

“I haven’t felt sexy in seven freaking months! I look like I swallowed a watermelon. I can’t see my toes. I can’t bend over to shave my legs. I’ve got a giant pimple on my nose. Don’t tell me you haven’t seen it. It’s like a third eye!” I growl. “They never tell you about the freaking pimples! They only talk about the pregnancy glow! Where’s my glow? I want my freaking glow! And now, I see this giant purple line covering half my freaking stomach!” I yell.

Maybe I’m exaggerating a little bit. Okay, I’m definitely exaggerating. I also know I’m rambling. Yup. Definitely rambling. I just don’t think Luke understands the gravity of that stupid stretch mark! It’s like the straw that broke the freaking camel’s back!

And have I mentioned those damn pregnancy hormones?

“Liv,” Luke says, sternly. I ignore him, fuming.

“Liv!” he tries again, gaining my attention.

“What?” I growl.

“You are the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen. Hands down. You didn’t swallow a watermelon. You have a tiny human being growing inside you. You can’t see your toes? I can! They’re cute, and tiny, and perfect. I can even paint your damn nails if you need me to. You can’t shave your legs? Where’s your razor? I’ll do that, too. You have a pimple?” He lifts my chin towards him. “I saw you when you were sixteen years old. They went away then, and they’ll go away in two months.” He leans forward, making sure he has my full attention. “You want your glow? You damn, naïve, woman!” he yells, exasperated. “You’ve had that glow every single day of your life. You might not see it, but I do. And it makes you more beautiful than any other woman out there.” He punctuates the last words by pointing toward the window.

I feel my eyes start to water and my cheeks flushing as he continues. “And this little stretch mark?” His finger lightly grazes the line. “It’s the most beautiful reminder I will ever have of the miracle you created. I might not be this little boy’s dad, but I will love him every single day of my life. And that means that I will love this little line, and any others you get in the next two months, more than you will ever know.”

He’s breathing heavy from his confession, his forest-green eyes so heated I feel them burning into me, tattooing his words onto my soul. I try to swallow the lump in my throat from his honesty. The silence is so heavy in the room I’m afraid I might suffocate, but I can’t seem to break it.

He’s been trying to tell me for months, but I think this is the first time that the truth has finally sunk in, and it hits me like a ton of bricks.

Luke isn’t going anywhere. I’m not alone. Luke loves my Little Man. And I think he might even love me a little bit, too. As a friend, obviously.

He continues to hold my gaze, waiting for me to say something.

The problem is I’m not sure what I should say after a confession like that, so I simply stare at his hand resting on my swollen stomach, and whisper so quietly I’m almost shocked he hears me, “The nail polish is under the sink.”

Luke laughs, his head tilted toward The Princess Bride still playing on the screen. He shakes his head, his green eyes twinkling as they hold my gaze once more. “As you wish.”

Luke

After my little confession, Liv and I did what we always do. We swept it under the rug and pretended it never happened.

I had always been grateful for it in the past, but I’m getting tired of pretending. I did it for two years in high school, three years when we were apart, and six months with her living under my roof.

If I have to hold anything else in, I might explode.

It felt good to express myself last night. It felt good to laugh with her afterwards as I painted her toes a cheerful sunshine color (her words, not mine). It felt good as we watched Westley fight Prince Humperdinck, her legs in my lap.

Everything about her feels good.