“Is it too much? All the flowers?” Kaila rearranges yet another bouquet on the long banquet table.

“Too many flowers? No such thing. Besides, we have to represent Flower Power somehow.” I give her a wink.

With the flower situation settled, Kaila turns her frenzied attention on me.

“How are you?”

“Fine.” I shrug. “Why?”

Her eyes trail down to my swollen belly.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you look like you’re gonna pop any second.”

I drum my fingers along my giant baby bump and laugh.

“I’m gonna miss being pregnant.”

“Aw. That’s sweet.”

“But it will be nice to be able to drink again.”

The new bell on the gallery’s front door sings, and we look over to see Sean entering. At the sight of him, my stomach does a cartwheel, just as it always does. It’s been almost eight months since we officially got together, and each day, somehow, I fall a little more in love.

“Hey,” he breathes, eyes on me the whole time he crosses the gallery.

“Hi,” I murmur, turning my face up to accept his kiss.

With his lips on mine and his hand gently pressed to my belly, I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss on.

“You two are sickeningly sweet.” Kaila’s voice breaks the reverie.

Sean pulls back with a chuckle, though he gives the baby one more loving caress.

“Sorry, not sorry. Where should I put this?” He holds up the cake box, which I somehow didn’t notice before.

“Anywhere on the table,” I instruct.

Setting the cake down, he comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my torso and pressing his cheek to the side of my head.

“It looks great, babe.”

“Yeah,” I slowly agree, taking in the wall filled with my paintings.

Kaila stands on a ladder near the front, pinning the last streamer to the door frame.

All I can think as I stare at my abstract paintings, canvasses colored with all the colors of the island I love so much—blues, oranges, deep and bright greens—is that life really never goes as planned. I figured that, this year, being one of the busiest ones of my life, I’d have no time to paint.

But boy, was I wrong.

Maybe it’s the hormones surging through me, or the fact that I’ve never been happier, but the last six months have been the most creative ones of my life. It’s like I can’t put the paintbrushes down.

“Here they come,” Sean announces.

I look back over to the door to see his parents and my mother coming through. Mom’s eyes light up when she sees me, and she makes a beeline in my direction.

Though things haven’t been perfect between us, life has definitely been easier. We both apologized for the things we said that day at her house, and we’ve come to a kind of relaxed agreement to try to be nice to each other.

I know that part of her coming around has to do with me and Sean being in a committed relationship. Maybe that should piss me off, but honestly, I don’t care. I don’t have the brain cells to be angry about what someone else thinks. I’m way too preoccupied with being happy.

“Any day now,” Mom sings as she kisses Sean on the cheek.

The door opens again, and this time, it’s Frank. He nods my way before looking up and catching sight of Kaila, who’s still working on that streamer.

“Hey.” He grins at her.

“Oh, hi.” Kaila self-consciously messes with her hair. She’s heard all about Frank, but never met him, so probably doesn’t know she’s talking to the Tank himself. Poor, innocent Kaila. She could never handle what Frank is packing—both in bed and in heartbreaks.

“Sean,” I whisper, shooting my eyes in their direction.

Sean takes note of the situation and frowns.

“I’ll take care of that,” he promises.

By the time he gets over to Frank, the place is filling up, the pouring in of people unprecedented. It seems every person I know plus double that amount is here. The minutes whip by, passing in a flurry as I shake hands and take congratulations.

“Thank you,” I tell a man who I think is Sean’s cousin. “It’s so nice of you to come.”

The cousin steps to the side, revealing a sheepish-looking Frank.

“Hey,” he quietly says.

“Hi.”

His eyes fall to my belly. “How are you doing?”

“Good.” I nod.

It’s only been a couple weeks since he got home, and we haven’t seen each other that much. Most of his free time, he’s been helping Sean get the motorcycle-repair shop up and running while I’ve been busy painting away.

“You look great,” he says earnestly. “You’re glowing.”

I feel myself blush. “Thanks, Frank.”

He looks around before stepping a little closer.

“We’re cool, right?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I just…wonder sometimes.” He shrugs.

The uncharacteristic display of emotion twists my heart. I put my hand on his shoulder and look him in the eye.

“We’re so cool.”

Frank’s face lights up. “Nice.”

Maybe this is odd, but the possibility that the baby inside of me has Frank’s genes doesn’t matter one bit. Once he got back from his tour, the three of us had a quick talk about the situation, just to make sure we were all on the same page.

As expected, we were. Even if the kid is Frank’s biological child, he’ll forever be Uncle Frank to them—a role it seems he’s extremely excited about playing.

“I can’t wait,” Frank says, as if reading my mind. “I’m taking that kid shooting the day he can walk.”

“It might be a she,” I laugh. “And that’s too young. Sorry. Typically, toddlers carrying firearms is frowned upon.”

“When they’re twelve, then.”

“Nope.”

“Sixteen?”

“Maybe. We’ll talk about it.”

“Okay, okay.” He rubs his jaw and looks around. “So, how many young ladies are there gonna be here tonight?”

“Calm yourself, big boy.”

“Violet!” someone calls out.

It’s Kaila, waving me over. Scooting my way through the crowd—not an easy feat in my condition—I make my way over to her and Sean.

As I scoot up to my boyfriend, he takes my hand in his, the easy smile he offers instantly making my legs turn to jelly. I’ve seen him naked more times now than I can count, and yet I still can’t get enough of him.

“I thought you might want to say some words now,” Kaila quietly says, reminding me of the loose speech I wrote earlier.

“Oh. Right. Um. Excuse me, everyone!”

A few people look over, but mostly the crowd keeps milling around. Suddenly, a shrill whistle pierces the air. The whole gallery falls quiet, and I look to my side to see Frank pulling his whistling fingers from his mouth. He gives me a wink.

“Thanks,” I tell him.

With everyone’s attention now on me, I clear my throat and try to remember the outline I brainstormed this morning. As I look around the gallery, though, seeing the faces of all my family and friends, every word I ever practiced floats out of my head.

Sean presses his hand to my lower back and I turn to look up at his kind, patient face. Before I know it, the words are just flowing.

“When I started this year, I planned on it being the busiest one of my life. What I didn’t expect was for all this creativity to hit me from out of nowhere.”

I gesture at the paintings around us. People cock their heads in interest and a few murmurs go through the room. Nearby, Mom beams at me.

“But, I suppose when life is as good as it is right now, you can’t keep all that goodness trapped inside. I have a baby on the way, the love of my life by my side…” I look to Sean again, and he kisses my forehead. “And now, all of you being here tonight…it’s really the cherry on top of everything. I’ll never be able to tell you how much your support means to me.”

My chest swells at the words. Everything I’m saying is true. I couldn’t have envisioned a more perfect life for myself if I tried. That would have been shooting for the moon. And, yet, here I am, living comfortably in its crescent each and every day.

I lick my lips, trying to decide if there’s anything else I want to say, when Sean’s mom’s eyes drop to the floor in front of me and go wide. Following her gaze, I look down. There’s a puddle of liquid right under of me.

I frown. Someone must have spilled their drink.

“Violet,” Abigail says, reaching for me—and as the muscles in my torso tighten up in the first innocent contraction, I suddenly get it.

That’s no spilled drink. My water just broke.

* * *

The next few hours are mostly a blur, a vivid moment here and there. There’s everyone ushering me out the door amid a flurry of well wishes. There’s Sean speeding toward the hospital as I insist he slow down. There’s the changing into a gown, the contractions speeding up and increasing in intensity, the doctor and nurses spilling into the room, Sean holding my hair and massaging my back, the unbelievable need to push that’s like nothing else in the world, and, suddenly…

There’s a crying baby, born hours earlier than first babies are supposed to be.

“That’s a three-hour labor,” the doctor announces as a strawberry-blond baby boy squeals in his hands. “You’ll have to camp outside of the hospital for the next one,” she chuckles.

I can’t respond. I’m too busy staring at my beautiful son—our beautiful son. Even though he’s only a minute old, there’s no doubt whose biological child he is. I would recognize that wavy, red hair anywhere. Not that it even matters.

Sean holds my hand tighter and turns to me with wet eyes.

“Violet,” he whispers.

“I know,” I gasp.

“Thank you.”

It’s the last thing I expected to hear, and, despite my exhaustion, it makes me burst into laughter.