“And then I went to Japan and Mommy was so mad at me. I mean, I was being kind of a jackass. It’s a miracle she forgave me or else I wouldn’t have come home, had mind blowing se—“

“Harry!” Your exclamation cuts me off, and I laugh.

“What?! I’m just telling baby bunny about how they were created!” I rest my chin on your swollen stomach, staring up at you with an innocent expression. It’s then that Bunny—our baby’s nickname—decides to deliver a harsh blow, kicking me straight in the chin. “Ow! Bunny kicked me!”

I pout sarcastically as you laugh at my misfortune. I give one last kiss to your bump before crawling back up beside you in bed.

We’ve been married for 2 years, together for 5, and 8 months ago, we found out you were pregnant. Marked that day down in the calendar as the happiest day of my life. I’m pretty sure you cried for a week straight, and it wasn’t just because of the hormones. You’d always wanted to start a family of your own, of getting the chance to mend the part of you that never had a perfect family of your own.

Your dad was never in the picture, not from the day you were born. It made yours and your mother’s trust issues pretty intense. But I tread lightly and earned your love. Your mother was a harder nut to crack. Because of my career and my reputation—or what the media liked to paint a 19 year old boy as—your mom was, reasonably, hesitant. It took up until our wedding day for me to feel like I finally had her blessing.

But, now, life couldn’t be any better. We’re happy, in love, and starting our family. This is everything I’ve ever wanted and more.

I lay beside you now and push some hair back out of your face. You have this specific, mischievous smile that I know far too well at this point. “You look like you’re about to ask me to go downstairs and make you some obscure craving you’re having…” Your smirk deepens and I groan jokingly. “What’ll it be now? Pickles and chocolate? Salted strawberries?”