I walk down the upstairs hallway after shutting my office door behind me, tucking my tattooed hands into the pockets of my black slacks. My shoes click on the floor as I walk, my mind swimming with various shipment dates, warehouse addresses, meeting times, and names of people I know either from rivalry or alliance. But most importantly, I’m also thinking of you and our unborn baby girl. I’ve overheard my men snickering about how ever since you got pregnant, I’ve turned soft. Which I suppose is true. But my wife is pregnant with my little girl and damn near about to burst, who the hell are they to judge?

I pause when I pass by the open door of the room we decided to make the nursery, peeking my head in and smiling softly when I see you on a small step ladder placing some children’s books on a shelf. I lean against the doorway, crossing my arms over my chest while I watch you with an amused smile. “Thought doctors orders were for you to be resting your last month, hm?” I finally speak, informing you of my presence.