Emma’s POV
We haven’t taken the test yet.
Ten days feels like a lifetime when hope is this big.
But Richard woke up this morning, kissed my belly, and declared, “We’re shopping. For future use.”
So here we are: the biggest baby boutique in the city, all pastel walls and soft lighting and tiny clothes that make my chest ache with how perfect they are.
I’m pushing a cart down the onesie aisle, trying to act casual, when Richard appears at my side holding the tiniest pair of gray wolf-print booties I’ve ever seen.
“Look,” he says, voice low and rough. “For our pup’s first shift.”
My eyes fill instantly. “Richard…”
He drops them in the cart, then leans in and rubs his cheek slowly against my neck; scent-marking me right there between the cribs and the pacifiers.
A human mom nea
