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“It’s not about me and my heart anymore. Or even our feelings.” She slides a palm over her still-flat stomach. “It’s about the life we made together.”

After being with Nia these past few weeks, I’ve felt the passion and connection Becca and I lacked. I won’t have another gray, void marriage.

“It should be about us, as well.”

“I can’t think about that right now. I have a responsibility to this child. All my life, my mother put me first. She’s not here anymore for me to thank, but I’m a better person for her love. I intend to give our baby the same kind of devotion.”

It’s admirable, commendable. I’m sure Nia will shower our child with all the love he or she could ever want. But I’m not thinking about a being that’s the size of a seed right now. I’m thinking about the woman standing in front of me, cheeks stained with silver paths, whom I plan to speak vows to and spend my life with.

“Of course.” I slide the ring on her finger, gratified when it fits perfectly.

The sparkle of the diamond is a striking contrast with her rich brown skin. Every man will see the stamp of my possession. I’ve never been the caveman sort, but Nia is nearly mine in every sense of the word. This isn’t a joyous occasion for her, but I have to swallow down the urge to whoop and beat my chest.

Until she speaks.

“Can you do that?” Nia questions. “Less than a week ago, you said you didn’t want children. You couldn’t even hold Trace’s son. I wrestled all day about whether it was selfish to marry you when you’re not sure you ever want kids. I nearly decided that if my mother could raise a daughter alone, I could do the same with my baby⁠—”

“No. That’s my baby, too.” I already lost one this year. I’m not losing another.

She anchors her hands on her hips. “How are you going to handle it?”

Honestly, I don’t know. I don’t feel any more ready to be a father than I was last Thursday. I’m terrified as hell of Nia being pregnant, of fathering another child who may never be born. But here we are, and bowing to fear will only hurt us all.

“I just will.”

“All right.” Finally, she looks down at the ring on her finger and swallows. “It’s really beautiful. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that when you gave it to me the first time.”

I squeeze her hand. “It looks perfect on you.”

The smile she gives me doesn’t convey happiness. “If we’re going to get married, I’d like to do this quickly.”

“Absolutely. Do you mind if we get married in Maui? Maxon and Keeley’s place is perfect for weddings. The Reed clan is all the family I have, and I don’t know if they can travel here⁠—”

“The wives are all too pregnant to come to Seattle now. A wedding in Hawaii would be nice.” She tries to muster enthusiasm. “I only have a few people to invite. Lorenzo and Guilia. Some girlfriends. My second cousin Annabelle. Remember me telling you about her? The one who lives in New Orleans with her three guys?”

Vaguely, but if she wants them at our wedding… “Sure. I’ll call Britta. She’s the organizer. All three of my siblings have put together quick weddings, so they’re pros. Britta’s mom caters. Keeley works really closely with a great florist and photographer. Harlow is clever. It’ll come together.”

She nods absently. “I’ll figure out a dress.”

Becca always wanted something elaborate, and at the time we married, the money simply wasn’t there. I don’t want Nia to regret anything else about her decision to marry me.

I grab her shoulders. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re only getting married once, and that’s to me. So whatever dress will make you happy, I want you to have it.”

“I don’t need anything extravagant.”

“But what do you want? Whatever that is, I’ll give it to you.”

Normally, I’d grit my teeth about the impractical pomp of weddings and stew about how illogical it is to spend thousands of dollars to speak a few words in front of some people simply so we can become man and wife. But until the baby, Nia wasn’t even sure she wanted to marry me. I’ve forever changed her life with one rash decision made in a haze of possessive anger and lust. How can I not give her the small consolation of the wedding of her dreams?

“You don’t have to do that, Evan. I don’t mind keeping it small and simple.”

Suddenly, I mind. “Our ceremony should be memorable, not expedient.”

She sighs. I don’t know whether she’s conceding my point or simply too tired to argue. “You’ll be having a prenuptial agreement drawn up, I suppose?”

It’s illogical but I instantly resent her suggestion, like she’s already concerned about our divorce before we’re even married. Still, my practical side kicks in. “Yes, but let’s not worry about it now. Shouldn’t we…” Break open a bottle of champagne and toast? No, we can’t do that since she’s pregnant. “Celebrate somehow? We’re engaged.”

Nia looks at me for a long moment. “I don’t feel like celebrating, Evan. I feel like going to bed. I’m tired.”