Ryan nods slowly, as if processing this distinction. "And the baby? You're really ready to be a dad?"
"Terrified," Nick admits with a laugh. "But yeah. Ready as anyone can be for something they've never done before."
"Well," Ryan says, raising his beer, "here's to figuring it out as you go. And to Micah for putting up with Nick's learning curve."
It's not exactly a ringing endorsement, but it's progress. And as the evening winds down, I watch Ryan gradually relax into our new dynamic, making an effort to include me in their shared jokes and memories.
It occurs to me that we're all figuring this out together—how to integrate me into Nick's existing relationships, how to expand our circle to accommodate our new reality. It's messy and imperfect, but it's real.
***
Later, after Ryan and Jason have left and we've cleaned up the dinner dishes, Nick leads me to the spare room that will become the nursery. It's currently a chaotic mess of boxes and exercise equipment, but as we stand in the doorway together, I can almost see what it could become.
"What do you think?" Nick asks. "Sage green for the walls? Gender-neutral but not boring?"
"I like it," I agree, trying to imagine the space transformed. "Calming but not bland."
"We could do an accent wall," he suggests, pulling up paint swatches on his phone. "Maybe behind where the crib will go? Like a forest theme or something nature-inspired?"
I smile, charmed by his enthusiasm. "I didn't know you had such strong opinions about nursery decor."
"I'm full of surprises." He grins, setting his phone aside to pull me closer. "But seriously, I want it to be perfect. For both of you."
The simple declaration, delivered with such earnest sincerity, makes my throat tight with emotion. This is Nick—my bestfriend of nine years, the person who knows me better than anyone—and yet there are still moments when he surprises me with the depth of his commitment, his wholehearted embrace of our new reality.
"It will be," I say, standing on my toes to kiss him softly. "Perfect doesn't mean fancy. It just means loved."
"Then we've got that covered," Nick murmurs against my lips.
As we head back to the bedroom—our bedroom now—I catch sight of us in the hallway mirror. Nick's arm around my waist, my hand resting on his chest, both of us rumpled and content and thoroughly domestic. We look like exactly what we are: two people who've found their way home to each other.
"What are you smiling about?" Nick asks, following my gaze to our reflection.
"Us," I say simply. "We look good together."
"We do," he agrees, pressing a kiss to my temple. "We really do."
In bed, as we settle into the familiar comfort of each other's arms, I rest my head on Nick's chest and listen to the steady rhythm of his heart. His hand finds my stomach, palm flat against the place where our child grows.
"Hard to believe there's someone in there," he says quietly.
"Someone who's half you and half me," I add, the reality of it still overwhelming in the best possible way.
"Think they'll have your eyes?" Nick asks, his voice soft with wonder.
"Or your smile," I counter. "God help us if they get your stubborn streak."
"Hey," Nick protests, but he's laughing. "That stubborn streak is what got us here. I had to be stubborn enough to fight for you."
I lift my head to look at him, this man who's somehow become my everything without me quite knowing how it happened. "Youdidn't have to fight very hard," I admit. "I was already yours. I just needed you to realize it."
"Best nine years of my life," Nick says, his voice rough with emotion. "Even when I didn't know what I was working toward."
"And now?"
"Now I know exactly where I'm going," he says, pulling me up for a kiss that tastes like promises and new beginnings. "Right here. With you. For as long as you'll have me."
"Forever, then," I whisper against his lips.