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It feels different walking it with her. I think it’s a lot like living it. With any other woman, I think I’d be scared shitless. With Faye, I just feel hopeful and excited for the future.

Besides, it’s my job to make all the hard things in life easier for her. It’s my ring she wears on her finger. I’m the man she’ll one day soon—hopefully—call husband.

Because she’s still paralyzed, I start by grabbing a pack of bibs. Babies need bibs, right?

I toss them in the cart, followed closely by little toys, bottles, burp cloths…

My eyes land and lock on a pack of socks. They’re so little. I can’t imagine feet so tiny.

I throw them in the cart, too.

Faye appears beside me. “I think you’re going a little overboard.”

“That’s a matter of opinion.” I move into the next aisle. It’s filled with hundreds of tiny outfits. One side is dedicated to girls, the other to boys.

I throw her a look. “Are you sure you don't want to know the gender?”

“I'm sure,” she says confidently, but she touches her fingertips to a tiny soft pink onesie. “I want to be surprised.” She snorts, like she’s telling a dry joke. “You'd think I've had enough surprises, but I guess I just want a good surprise, you know?”

“A good surprise?” Because the surprise of finding out she was pregnant was anything but good.

“You know, a surprise that won’t gut-punch me.”

“I don’t know…” I give the pink onesie she’s admiring a mock-wary look. “It could be a girl.”

She swats me before I can dodge her, scolding, “We’re going to be happy either way!”

“Happy, sure. But doesn’t the thought of a daughter scare you?” I press. “Just a little?”

“Why would that scare me?”

“Oh, I don’t know? Maybe because I’d be wrapped around every single little finger and toe she has?” I arrange my expression into one of thought. “Yeah, that sounds terrifying.”

Faye laughs. The sound does something to me, and I realize right then and there that I’m already wrapped around one woman’s every single finger. What’s one more?

“You’d make a good girl-dad.”

I suddenly hope the baby is a girl.

“You think?”

She looks up at me, twisting those full lips that I’ve been dying to kiss to the side. “I know it.”

I clear my throat, plucking the pink onesie from the rack and tossing it into the cart.

Faye laughs again. “We don’t know what I’m having. We can’t get pink. It could be a boy.” She lifts a light brown onesie. “Neutrals are the safer bet.”

I add a blue onesie to the cart. “We’ll get one for each. The rest can be neutral.”

She beams at me and shit—but there’s got to be a string knotted around my heart and strung around her because wow.

We add more outfits to the cart, probably more than we need but I don’t care. Baby shopping is more fun than I thought.

“Neutral for the room, too?” I ask, stopping in front of the cribs.

She nibbles her lip, frowning. “Maybe another day. We still have time.”

“Not really. And we’re here now.”