You’re standing on the upper deck, the ocean shimmering behind you like something out of a dream. The sun warms your skin as your husband moves behind you, his arms slipping around your waist—hands settling on the curve of your belly.

You’re barefoot, in a knit cream dress that hugs your growing bump. His body is pressed close, the fabric of his white linen shirt rolled to his elbows, sleeves fluttering in the wind. He rests his chin lightly on your shoulder and murmurs, “Now or never, love.”

You nod, heart racing.

“Everyone,” he calls out, voice smooth, composed—his usual boardroom command softened by something warmer. “We’d like a moment.”

The laughter and conversation fade as both families gather near the seating area, champagne flutes in hand, sunglasses on, cheeks sun-kissed. Your sister squints toward you, teasing, “Why do you two look like you’re hiding something?”

You take a breath, and your hand joins his over your belly. “We are,” you say, voice trembling but sure. “But not anymore.”

You glance up at him, and he nods.

“We’re having a baby.”

The reaction is instant. Your mother lets out a gasp and presses her hands to her mouth. His mother shouts, “I knew it!” Your father drops his sunglasses in disbelief. Your brother-in-law already has his phone out to record the chaos. Champagne is spilled in excitement, someone shouts “We need a toast!” and your little niece runs toward you screaming, “A baby?!”

But all you can focus on is your husband. His arms tighten around you from behind, lips pressing to the side of your neck.