Ryan and Claire’s wedding was last week. I did a little guilty Facebook stalking and looked at some of the pictures. Of course, the venue was absolutely beautiful, but it’s not really surprising that I’d think so, considering it was the venue I had told him I was dreaming about since I was a kid. I just thought something was so romantic about lighthouses, and they reminded me of when I was a kid because my dad used to bring us to the lighthouse on Anastasia Cove. It looked straight out of some old sailor’s painting, graceful but strong enough to bear any storm--kind of how I always wished I could be, I guess.

I’ve gone to visit my dad more since everything happened with Chris. It’s still not easy to see him how he is now. He has chronic pain that prevents him from doing much on his own anymore, and his identity was always in his competence. Need something fixed? He could do it. Need someone to work hard? He was the man for the job. One injury with a forklift ruined his back and it only took a few years for it to do the same to the dad we loved. He’s bitter now, and hardly speaks, like he’s just sitting there, blaming the world for everything that went wrong.

But when I told him about the baby, a change came over him. His eyes moved away from the TV and he actually smiled a little. Since then, I’ve been making small steps with him, and I’ve gotten Amelia and Brooke to get over to visit him more, too, which seems to be helping.

I put a hand to my belly, feeling the unfamiliar tightness and the strangeness of knowing a little person is growing inside there. No matter how scared I am when I try to figure out how I’ll ever afford this little baby of mine, I’m already so attached I can’t help but feel excited. For all the chaos and pain Chris Savage brought into my life, I’ll never look at the baby he gave me as anything but a gift.

I’m still browsing wedding photos with a wistful kind of sadness, like I’m looking at a life I thought I wanted not so long ago, and realizing how wrong I was. I felt like my whole world was falling apart when things went to ruins with Ryan, and now I look back and thank God they did. I have a bad feeling I’m not going to ever be able to look back, and feel glad that Chris and I ended the way we did.

My phone rings. I almost don’t check it because I’m in a mood to retreat from the world today, but I blow out a sigh and take a look. I frown down at the number. It’s an area code I don’t recognize, but curiosity gets the better of me so I answer.

“Hey,” says an oddly familiar voice.

“Chris?” I ask. My heart is already pounding and a thousand things rise up, things I’ve wanted to say for what feels like forever--explanations, apologies for things I didn’t even do.

“You’re not going to believe this, but I was coming up to my cabin and my tire blew out. It’s just like a quarter mile from your house. Any chance you could bring me a tire iron?”

“What?” I ask, not even knowing where to start.

“Please,” he says. “I know we left off weird, but just come.”

“Chris,” I say, looking out the window. “It’s going to be pouring rain soon. And what makes you think I can just go back to pretending like everything is normal? Did you forget—”

“Look,” he says, cutting me off. “I really gotta go. But please don’t leave me hanging out here, I could really use the help. Thanks.”

He hangs up, leaving me looking between my phone and the brewing thunderstorm outside with a bemused expression on my face. He knows I’m going to go to him. But if he thinks I’m going to go out there and give him a big hug and beg him to take me back, he has another thing coming.

I grab a jacket big enough to hide my belly and go searching through my car, not even sure I have a tire iron. I finally find it. I test the weight once it's in my hands, making a note of how effective it would work for bashing Chris across the head if he tries to grin and smirk his way out of this.

I set off down the only road up or down the mountain, heading downhill. I have plenty of time to think of what I’ll say to him, even though I’ve had months and haven’t done much but think about him and everything that happened.

It’s only a few minutes before I see a surprisingly old and beat-up looking truck. Chris is sitting on the hood. He’s wearing a light blue shirt, and jeans, looking like a supermodel, as usual. This time though, it only fuels my anger toward him. I pick up my pace, gripping the tire iron and preparing to just wing it at him when it comes to explaining exactly how obnoxious and insane he was to call me of all people to come bail him out.

The first light rains start to fall, but there’s thankfully no lightning yet.

He hops off the trunk and walks straight toward me, falling to his knees and taking my hands. I’m too shocked to do anything but drop the tire iron and look down at him with a baffled expression.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

I look behind him and notice all four wheels on the truck are intact.

“Chris. It’s about to pour and you don’t even have a fucking flat tire,” I snap. All the emotion and anger of the last four months of being alone and dealing with the pregnancy by myself boil over. “Were you just in town and you thought you’d humiliate me for old time’s sake? Just had to prove I was still like a dumb puppy who’d come when you call? Well here I am, okay? Does it feel good?”

“Lindsey,” he says, hair already darkening with water as rivulets of rain run down his face. “I’m so goddamn sorry. Alec admitted what he did a few hours ago. I flew out here as soon as I found out. I was wrong. I was an idiot. I was everything I shouldn’t have been and I let you get away. I fucking let you get away and I’ve spent the last four months convincing myself I did the right thing even though my heart was telling me I didn’t.”

“You didn’t let me get away. You shoved me away as hard and fast as you could,” I say, pulling my hands away from his. I self-consciously position my arms, trying to hide my belly as my jacket and clothes try to stick to me in the increasing downpour.

“I finished the book,” he says, standing, towering over me, making it impossible not to notice the way the rain has turned his blue shirt nearly transparent.

“What do you want me to do, congratulate you? Did you find some other girl to suck you off in a fake confession booth to get your creative juices flowing?”

“I haven’t touched anyone, not since I met you. It has only been you, Lindsey. Fuck. Even when I thought I hated you, I still couldn’t bring myself to think about other women.”

“Really?” I ask, feeling the wall of icy anger I’ve put up around myself thawing.

“Really,” he says, stepping closer and taking me by the shoulders, pulling me slowly into a hug I reluctantly allow.

It’s only when I’ve let myself be pulled into him that I realize he’ll feel my belly against his. Before I can back away, he’s already kneeling, both hands on my stomach and his expression is of complete concentration. “Is this…” he says, voice barely audible over the pouring rain pattering down on the trees and road.

“Yes,” I say. “Yes,” I laugh at first, but then a sudden wave of sadness crashes into me when I think about how pathetic I must seem right now.

He stands, cupping my face in his hands like nothing ever came between us, like we’re still in that moment back in Germany, where the world existed only in the places our skin collided, where nothing was insurmountable because I was his, and he would never let anything bad happen to me. If only…

“It’s mine,” he says. It’s not a question. There’s no doubt in his voice that I might’ve had some angry rebound sex and accidentally got pregnant. For some reason the complete trust he places in that idea means the world. It’s not everything. It’s not the complete act of apology, but it’s a step, it’s one brick to rebuild the foundation between us, and I’m not ashamed to admit I’ll accept a single brick, hell, even half a brick.”We’re having a baby,” he says, laughing and kissing me.

My eyebrows raise in surprise and he pulls back, frowning at me, seeking out an answer with his eyes. As if he reads my thoughts and my doubts, he takes my hands in his.

“Lindsey,” he says. “Letting you go was the biggest mistake of my life, and I’m ready to spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you’ll just let me. I’ll beg if you make me,” he adds without a hint of humor in his expression.

He’s serious, I realize. As much as a mischievous part of me is tempted to see what a begging Chris Savage would look like, the rest of me is screaming to end his misery and just scream with happiness that we don’t have to be apart anymore. I force myself to find a happy middle ground, keeping the smile from my face just because he deserves to squirm a little longer after everything he put me through.

“Jeez,” I say. “I don’t know. I mean, you come out here and hunt me down like some kind of psycho fan. I know my blog is impressive, but this really is over the top.”

He looks so confused I wish I could snap a picture and hold on to it whenever I need a good belly laugh, but I can’t hold back the smile anymore.

His smile grows with mine, eyes darting across my features as he takes in my face and sees all he needs to, but if he had any doubt, I stand on my toes and lean as close to his ear as I can manage to whisper over the sound of the pouring rain. “I reserve the right to make you beg in the future, but right now, I’m just happy you’re back.”

He picks me up by the hips like I'm weightless, face breaking into the biggest and most genuine smile I've ever seen on him. "We're pregnant," he shouts into the rain like he's making sure all the animals and plants know it. "We're having a baby!" He yells.

I laugh, wrapping my arms around his neck and letting him cradle me to his chest where I can nuzzle my head into him. The rain patters against me, cool and refreshing, filling my nose with fresh smells that make me think Spring isn’t far away. A time for new beginnings. New chapters. Happy chapters.

“If you want to ever meet our baby, you should probably get us inside before the lightning starts,” I suggest, even though I’m reluctant to ever let this moment end.

Being here in his arms in such a wild moment feels like the kind of thing a person could spend their entire life hoping to find. One of those rare moments that never loses its luster, and only grows more perfect the longer its held on to. This is my moment. I’m in it, living it, and breathing it all in. But my swollen belly and the man clutching me to his chest make me sure it’s only the first of many.

He starts walking toward his truck, but I tap his chest to get his attention. “Maybe you can just carry me back to my place,” I suggest with a slightly embarrassed smile. “You kind of owe me some special treatment, you know.”

He smirks. “You have no idea.”

I tuck my cheek down, resting it against his muscular chest and feel my cheeks burn beneath the cool rainwater. I let the gentle sway of his steps lull me into a state of tranquillity, I put all of my focus into memorizing every last detail of this moment Taking mental snapshots of every smell and sensation so when I revisit this memory a hundred thousand times over the rest of my life, I’ll have it all bottled up like a little treasure. There’s only one thing that could make it more perfect, I realize.

Part of me thinks I shouldn’t rush it, that I am going to make myself look desperate or weak by admitting what I’m about to say to him so quickly, but this is our fresh start. I nearly lost everything with Chris because I waited too long to tell him the truth once, and I’m not about to make the same mistake again.

“I love you,” I say.

He stops in his tracks, looking down at me. “What?” he asks.

“I’m sorry,” I blurt, “I just wanted to be open and—”

“No,” he says. “I just couldn’t hear you over the rain. What’d you say?”

My cheeks grow even hotter now. Really, Chris? Get your damn ears checked! “I love you,” I say again.

His face grows serious. Intense. Like he just closed himself off to the rest of the world and I’m the only thing in existence to him. “I loved you first.”

I laugh. It’s not a girly, dainty laugh, but one that comes from my nose and throat in equal parts. Leave it to him to turn this into a contest. Well, two can play at that game. “Past tense,” I say. “It doesn’t count unless it’s present tense, you know.”

He grins. “I love you so much it hurts. So much that I couldn’t stop even when I thought you had betrayed me. So much that when I found out what Alec did, I probably dislocated his jaw.”

I smile. “You’re going to have to tell me more about the beating you gave Alec later, when you want to get me in the mood.”

He laughs. “You mean you’re still not in the mood? Shit.”

“Chris. I’m pregnant. My hormones are going berserk, and apparently for me, that means I’m so horny that—” I clear my throat. Honesty is good, but there’s a point of over-sharing I probably should hold back from. Besides, he can figure out the rest, which he apparently does, because instead of taking me back toward my house, he changes direction and heads for his old cabin.