“Because,” I say quietly, “I refuse to carry the person growing inside me up a mini Everest.”
He freezes.
Slowly, he turns toward me.
His eyes search my face like he needs confirmation that he heard correctly.
“Are you telling me…” His voice falters. “Are you telling me we’re having a baby?”
I nod.
For a moment, he doesn’t move.
Then his hand comes to rest gently against my stomach, reverent and protective.
Emotion moves across his face in waves. Surprise. Wonder. Joy.
Tears fill his eyes.
“I can’t believe it,” he whispers.
I reach into the backpack and pull out the tiny hiking boots I packed that morning. They fit in the palm of my hand.
His breath catches when he sees them.
“I didn’t plan it. Best I can think of is that the stomach bug I had messed with the pill,” I say quietly. “But I’m not sorry.”
He leans forward and kisses me, his hand still resting against my stomach.
“I’m so happy,” he says against my lips.
He lowers himself carefully in front of me, resting his forehead briefly against me.
“I can’t wait to meet you,” he murmurs softly.
I run my fingers through his hair, overwhelmed by how completely he means it.
After a moment, he looks up at me.
“You know,” he says, “we’re going to have to get married.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“Oh, really?”
He hesitates.
“No,” he corrects himself. “We don’t have to.”
Something in my chest tightens slightly despite myself.
He reaches into his pocket.
“But I want to.”
He pulls out a small ring.
My breath stops.