The nursery walls were half-painted a soft sage green when Wren felt the first genuine kick, sharp and unmistakable, against her ribs.
"Cruz!" she called, laughing despite the mild discomfort, and he appeared in the doorway within seconds, paint roller still in hand, an expression of such immediate, total alarm that she laughed harder. "Not an emergency. Just — come here. Quick."
He crossed the room fast anyway, dropping to his knees beside the chair where she sat, hands hovering uncertainly over the swell of her belly. "What? What is it?"
"Feel," she said, guiding his hand to the spot, and a moment later, his face transformed as the baby kicked again, wonder replacing worry so completely that Wren felt her own heart swell with love at the sight.
"That's—" Cruz's voice came out rough.
