"Maybe." He pulls me close. "We'll need to move Xander to a bigger room. Set this one up for the new baby. Paint. New furniture. All of it."
"We have time."
"I know." He rests his chin on my head. "But I like planning. Like preparing. Makes it feel real."
"It's real." I guide his hand to my stomach. "Very real."
We stand there in the quiet nursery. Preparing for what comes next. Another child. Another chance. Another piece of our future.
Later, in our bedroom, he undresses me slowly.
Not with the desperate need that defined our early relationship. Not with the anger and punishment that came after betrayal.
With love.
Hands reverent on skin he knows better than his own. Kisses that taste like promises. Touch that says I'm cherished.
"You're beautiful," he murmurs. Kneeling before me. Kissing my stomach where our third child grows. "Every single time. You're always beautiful."
"Flattery will get you everywhere."
"Good." He stands. Lifts me. Carries me to bed with care. "Because I plan to get very far tonight."
We make love slowly. Deeply. Connection that goes beyond physical.
He moves inside me with steady rhythm. Watching my face. One hand tangled with mine. The other cradling my head.
"I love you." He says it against my lips. "You gave me back everything, Valerie. Everything that matters."
"I love you too." My free hand slides up his back. Feeling scars from that night. From Patrick's bullets. Badges of survival, not shame. "Always."
The pleasure builds slowly. Intensely. When I come, it's with his name on my lips and silent tears rolling down my face.
He follows immediately. Buries himself deep. Comes with a groan that sounds like relief and gratitude tangled together.
Afterward, we lie tangled in sheets. Both catching our breath. Both smiling in the dark.
"Happy?" I ask for the second time today.
"More than I ever thought possible." He pulls me closer. Tucks me against his chest. "Six years ago, I was drowning. Barely surviving. Going through motions without purpose."
"And now?"
"Now I have everything." His hand finds my stomach. Rests there. Protective. Possessive. Loving. "You. Mila. Xander. This baby. Is a life worth living instead of just enduring."
"No regrets?"
"Not one." He means it. "Every scar was worth it. Every bullet. Every moment of fear. Because we survived. Built something real from the ashes."
I press against him. Safe. Loved. Home.
"We're going to be okay," I whisper. "All of us. We're going to keep building this. Keep growing. Keep loving."
"We are." He kisses my hair. "Because that's what we do. We survive. We fight. We choose each other. Always."
Outside, the world continues. Dangerous. Dark. Full of threats we've learned to navigate.
But inside these walls, we're safe.