Emma’s POV
I’ve been staring at the calendar on my new phone for three days straight.
My period is late.
Four days late.
In the world of “trying,” four days feels like four years.
I haven’t said anything to Richard yet. I don’t want to get his hopes or mine up until I’m sure. But every morning I wake up and check for spotting, and every morning there’s nothing.
By day five, I can’t keep it in anymore.
We’re in the kitchen, early light spilling across the counter. He’s making coffee, shirtless, hair still damp from the shower. I’m perched on a stool, twisting my fingers.
“Richard,” I say quietly.
He turns instantly, reading my face. “What is it?”
“I’m late.”
The coffee pot forgotten, he’s in front of me in two strides. His hands cup my face, eyes wide and glowing soft g
