We’ve been driving for about six hours, and now find ourselves on a really windy road toward the Rocky Mountains.

I’ve rented an amazing villa in the hills which offers us privacy and space to do all of the outdoorsy things that Holly has planned. We’ve been listening to music all the way, and while she’s seemed happy overall, there is definitely something going on with her.

“You okay over there, Champ?” I ask.

“I’m just dandy,” she says, just a little too chipper.

“That’s a weird word, baby. What’s going on? Car sick?”

“You could say that,” she says quietly.

“Oh, sorry. We’ll be to the house in like six minutes.”

She nods, but I can tell there’s something she’s not saying. I let it go, her spirits appearing to lift as soon as she sees the gorgeous home I’ve rented for us. Holly’s so excited she hops out of the SUV before it’s barely come to a complete stop.

I pop open the back end of the new Land Rover, recently purchased for just these sorts of trips, and walk over to Holly where she stands admiring a stunning view of mountains and forest that goes on for days. I wrap my arms around her from behind and rest my chin on the top of her head. “I hope this means you’re feeling a little bit better.”

“I’ll be fine,” she says in a quiet voice.

The sound of a bag thumping to the ground catches our attention as her soft luggage tumbles out of the back of the Rover and onto the ground. A few things spill out of the top, which wasn’t totally zipped all the way and scatter in the gravel.

She scrambles to grab at something, but I get to it first, struggling to comprehend precisely what I’m looking at. It doesn’t take long for me to figure it out, though. I’m not that dumb.

“A pregnancy test.” I say, frowning at the white stick.

I look more closely at it. The little window shows a + with the explanation key displaying the word “pregnant” beside the + symbol.

I look up at Holly.

I look down at that little + some more.

Then back up to find her beautiful face again. She’s biting her lip and there are tears in her eyes.

“Are you? Are we?” I stammer.

She nods. I can’t tell if she’s happy or not.

“When…?”

“Could have been any of the times we did it without a condom,” she says. “We weren’t exactly careful. But I think it was the night after you won the cup.”

“So…just a handful of weeks?”

She nods again. “I think. I’ll need to confirm with a doctor.”

I stare at her for a minute, trying to read her mind. “Are you happy?”

“I’m…shocked. But not unhappy,” she says carefully. “I mean, it’s not the timing I would have picked for us to start a family…this news, our engagement…it’s all really…a lot.”

“Well, that’s certainly a pragmatic approach.” I can see she is worried about what I think about it.

“You’re not exactly showing your hand, either,” she counters. “How do you feel about being pregnant with me? Are you—h-happy?”

I lean in and kiss her sloppily on the mouth. “Are you kidding me? We made a life. We made a baby. And we’re getting married. And we love each other. What’s not to be happy about any of that?”

I scoop her up, the bags in the back of the car ignored for the moment, as I carry my new little family—now the center of my world—over the threshold.