My eyes fight to open against the assault blazing through the windows. Glancing at the clock, I see it’s almost noon and I struggle to determine that it is Saturday and I haven’t overslept. My body feels deliciously rested, my brain cozy from getting hours of uninterrupted sleep. It’s confusing considering my lack of any real sleep lately . . . and then I look to the vertical pillow beside me and see Ty’s clothes on the floor. Closing my eyes, I smile. He’s home both because he wants to be and I want him to be. Maybe he did always want to be? The load off my shoulders is a giant relief as I remember telling him about the pregnancy. My feet are cold against the floor, my body chilling because either the furnace is broken again or he’s turned down the thermostat. I don’t even care. Aiming for the kitchen, I pad down the hall but stop when I notice the nursery door scooted open. My fingertips find the wooden edge and I press it forward slowly. Ty is standing near the windows in his boxers, looking at the big oak tree outside.
