Sure Shot (Brooklyn #4)(92)

That’s when the party turns into a back-slapping, congratulating outpouring of good cheer. Tank stands up and accepts all the congratulations and teasing that come his way. Including: “Nice job, Sure Shot.”

I suppose that joke was inevitable.

It’s a few long minutes until I get my husband alone again. We sneak out of the party and take the elevator back to our quiet apartment. Tank lays the sleeping baby in his port-a-crib and then joins me on the sofa, where we just hold each other for a few minutes in contemplative silence.

“Mark,” I whisper eventually. “I love you so much. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

He runs a hand down my hair. “It’s okay, love. I know you were trying to spare my feelings. I was very clear that I didn’t want to try for this. But since it’s here, I have to tell you I’m so excited I can hardly breathe.”

I let out a quick breath. “But no pressure.”

He chuckles and then wraps his strong arms around me. “It’s okay, Bess. We’re okay.”

“Can I just say that I still want to adopt? So badly. We might need a bigger apartment.”

“Well, I still want to adopt, too.” He kisses me on the temple. “That won’t change. If we welcome another baby into the world first, then our adopted child will have a sibling.”

I shiver suddenly. “Wow. This is starting to seem real.”

“You and I are already real,” he whispers. “No matter what happens with the baby, I’ll be here for you.”

I swivel to face him. “And I’ll be here for you,” I agree. “I promise.”

There’s nothing more that needs to be said after that. So he kisses me instead.


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