First Crush, My Forever

Chapter 114

  We walk downstairs together, slow steps, Dani leaning into the railing like she's still half-asleep from everything her body put her through. When we turn the corner into the kitchen, KK spots her first.

  "Mommy!" she shouts and launches herself across the room like a tiny rocket.

  Dani barely has time to brace before KK slams into her legs. She crouches a little and catches her, hugging her so tight she sinks her face into KK's hair. She stays there longer than she usually does, breathing her in, holding on like she needs KK's little body to pull her back into herself.

  KK wraps her arms around Dani's neck and pats her cheek. "Mommy, why are you sad?" she asks in that blunt way only toddlers can get away with.

  Dani shakes her head and forces a small smile. "I'm not sad. I'm just tired."

  KK seems to accept that and hugs her again with all her strength. Dani's mom watches them, eyes soft in the way only a mother who understands the whole story can look. She glances at me after, her face shifting into something that says more than she'll ever say out loud. Gratitude. Relief. Approval. A little awe at how much I love her daughter.

  We all sit down at the table. KK sits between us but Dani still presses her thigh against mine under the table, needing the contact. I let her have it. She's allowed to need me. She's allowed to lean.

  Pizza boxes sit open in front of us. KK talks nonstop between bites, telling us everything her grandparents let her do today. Something about bubbles, chalk, a duck she named Pancake, and how Pop let her eat "a big girl snack," which I'm almost positive was ice cream.

  While KK rambles, I watch Dani settle. Breath by breath. Her shoulders ease down. Her eyes get clearer. Her face softens. The tension she carried all afternoon slowly leaks out of her.

  Halfway through the meal, Dani leans toward me. Her voice is barely a whisper. "I love you."

  I don't make a big deal of it. I don't move. I just whisper back, "I love you too."

  She squeezes my hand under the table and something in her unclenches. That quiet kind of release that only shows up when she feels safe enough to let go.

  When her parents stand to leave, Dani looks steadier. Tired but steady. Her mom pulls her into a hug and whispers, "You're doing great. Let her continue to love you." Dani's face folds a little at that. Her dad kisses her forehead and promises to bring more of that bread she likes from the market. KK throws herself at them for her own goodbye.

  When the door closes, the house goes still again. Dani exhales like she's been holding tension in her ribs all night. She leans against the wall for a second, pressing her hand to her belly like she's checking on the baby without thinking.

  KK runs into the living room and grabs my hand. "Mama T, can you do my bath?"

  "Yes," I tell her, because she already knows I will.

  I look over at Dani. She smiles at me. Small. Soft. Real. The kind of smile that only shows up when she's starting to breathe again. She mouths "thank you," and it hits deeper than it should.

  Upstairs, KK splashes through her bath and tells me more stories. Dani sits on the little stool next to the tub, rubbing her belly without even noticing it. She watches KK talk with that warm gaze she only ever uses for this kid. Every now and then she meets my eyes and I see the love sitting there. Exhausted, but present. She keeps reaching out to touch me without thinking. A knee against mine. A hand brushing my arm. Like she needs the reassurance that I'm real.

  After bath time, I help KK into her star pajamas. She says they feel magical. Dani and I tuck her in together. Dani smooths her hair, kisses her forehead and whispers, "Night baby."

  "Night mommy. Night Mama T."

  I brush her cheek with my thumb. "Night, princess."

  When we close her door, Dani leans into me. Not a collapse. Not weakness. Just trust. Her weight settles against my shoulder and I hold her steady.

  We walk to our bedroom slow. She moves like someone who's been wrung out emotionally. No rush. No need for any. Once inside, she sits on the edge of the bed. I notice her shirt lying crumpled on the floor from earlier when I undressed her so gently. She looks embarrassed, like she forgot. I grab it and put it in the hamper. She watches me with quiet eyes, the kind that say she's still fragile around the edges.

  "Thank you," she whispers.

  "You don't have to thank me for taking care of you." Her eyes get glossy again but she blinks it away.

  I help Dani climb into bed. I turn off the lamp and slide in next to her. She shifts until her head is on my chest, and my arm goes around her like it always has. She lets out a long shaky breath.

  "You okay?" I ask.

  "Better," she says. "A lot better."

  I run my fingers through her hair. Slow. Gentle. Thoughtful. Her body relaxes a little more with each pass. She waits a long moment before speaking again. "You scared me today."

  "How?" I ask softly.

  She hesitates. Then she whispers against my shirt, voice fragile in a way she rarely lets herself be. "I'm scared something will happen and you'll decide you don't want this anymore. I didn't have anyone last time. No support. No love. No partner. This pregnancy feels so different. I feel everything more. And I keep thinking maybe I'm too much. Maybe you'll get tired of holding me together."

  My heart twists. I tighten my arm around her. "I'm not leaving. I'm not going anywhere. You're not too much. You're not a burden. You're mine. I want you. I want this family. I want every part of this life with you."

  Her breath shakes. She nods into my chest, gripping my shirt like she's afraid I'll disappear. After a while she lifts her head. Her eyes are glossy and worn. "Will you hold me like this all night?"

  "Yeah," I say. "Of course."

  She settles against me again. Our legs tangle. Our skin warms. Her belly presses against my stomach. I feel her breathing slow until it becomes heavy and soft. She falls asleep with her hand over her belly and her face tucked against my collarbone. I stay awake longer. Long enough to memorize the rise and fall of her chest. Long enough to feel her trust settle against me like something sacred.

  She did everything alone once. She will never do it alone again, not while I'm here. I press a light kiss to the top of Dani's head. She doesn't stir. She just breathes against me, steady and warm, her whole body trusting mine to hold her through the night. I feel the baby shift between us, a small rolling push against my stomach that reminds me this isn't just love anymore. It's a life we're building in real time. A family she finally gets to have without fear.

  I tighten my arm around her one more time. Not to wake her. Just to promise her in a way she'll feel even in her sleep. This is where I am. This is where I stay.

  Her breathing evens out completely and something inside me settles with it. The house is quiet, the kind of quiet that used to make her feel alone. Tonight it feels safe. Full. Like the walls themselves know she's finally got somewhere soft to fall.

  I close my eyes and let the weight of her sink into me. Her hand stays over her belly, fingers curled like she's already protecting the little life growing there. I cover her hand with mine. I'll protect them too. Sleep pulls at me slowly, but I fight it for one last look at her. Messy hair on my chest. Lips parted a little. Face relaxed in a way she only ever lets happen when she feels completely loved and she is.

  When I finally let myself drift, it's with the smallest smile, because for the first time in her life, she isn't carrying everything alone.

  She's in my arms. She's safe and tomorrow, she'll wake up and know it wasn't a moment. It's her life now.