Aching for Adam

Chapter 20

It had been about a month since we told our families about the pregnancy—and the wedding.

The planning had gone surprisingly well so far, and I was beyond grateful for Jenny, our planner. She really was something else. Not only had she secured a beautiful venue, but she had also gone above and beyond to make sure everything was as perfect as if we'd had a full year to plan it.

Everything was nearly set. All that remained was picking my gown and choosing a cake.

Adam's parents still hadn't come around, but Suzie, who had been supportive from the very start, assured us she was doing her best to get them used to the idea. 

"This is happening whether they're on board or not," she'd said bluntly. "If they want to be involved in their grandchild's life, and be there for the most important step of their son's life, they need to get over themselves." Her words, not mine.

Adam tried hard to hide how much it hurt not to have their support. It wasn't that he didn't want to open up to me—I knew him well enough to recognize it was his way of trying to shield me from worry. He had been watching me like a hawk, doing everything in his power to make my life easier. It was endearing, but I had to keep reminding him: I was pregnant, not injured.

I even tried to push the envelope one day, just to show him how ridiculous he was being. I asked him to fetch some milk from the store—he did, immediately. Then I complained that I wanted whole milk, not 1%. Without hesitation, he went back to the store and brought me whole milk. After that, I asked if he could help me paint my toenails, wash my car, and cook dinner. He did it all without a single complaint.

When he finished cleaning the dishes, I asked if he could braid my hair, and he laughed.
"Yeah, I'd love to." He started brushing my hair with his hands to detangle it. "I know what you're doing, you know."

I rolled my eyes. Of course he knew—it was obvious.

"But I don't care," he added. "If you want me to prove to you all over again tomorrow that I'll do anything you need while you're carrying my child—and probably even after—then I will. I just wish you'd stop protesting. Let me take care of you, Elle."

"Adam, I love you. What you're doing is sweet, and I truly appreciate it. I'll try to let you pamper me, however foreign that is to me. But please, just take it down a notch. I want to feel like my own person, that I'm still capable of being independent. It makes me feel weak when you won't even let me lift a grocery bag. Things need to feel normal for me. And for the love of God, let me cook; you know I love to cook. At least for now, while I can still stand on my feet."

"You're right. I'm sorry—I didn't think of it that way." He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Don't apologize. I know you're just trying to help. Honestly, I want to slap you silly and give you a medal of honor at the same time. These hormones are not my friend." I snickered.

"I love you," he said finally, with a sly smile. And that ended the conversation.

Now, here he was, staring at his phone with sadness in his eyes.

"Adam, I want to be here for you. Please—tell me how you're feeling. I know this has been hard, not having your parents' support. I know I'd be devastated if mine reacted badly." I kept my voice soft, coaxing him to open up.

I was snuggled against him, our faces close. He took a deep breath and spoke in a low voice.
"Yeah, it's been hard, I won't lie. But in the end, I'm happy. I've never been happier. And if they can't be happy for me, then I don't think I should torture myself over it. I need to let them be. If they come around, great. If not, that's their choice—and I can't let it destroy me."

Wow. That was... mature. I wasn't sure he truly meant it, but it was the best mindset he could have under the circumstances.

"I just wish I could do something—anything—to make it easier. I hate seeing you suffer, especially when you try to hide it." I squeezed his forearm, and he pulled me closer.

"I know. But you've already made me the happiest man alive. I can't imagine you doing anything more." He kissed the top of my head and inhaled deeply.

I tilted my chin to kiss him, trying to pour everything I felt into that kiss. But how could I possibly make him understand the depth of my love? Even with an eternity, I wasn't sure I could.

"We should get some rest, love. Big day tomorrow," he murmured.

Indeed. Tomorrow at 6 a.m., the movers would arrive to pack up my entire apartment and transfer everything into our new house. Adam's things were practically all here already, and whatever remained would be moved over by afternoon.

I wasn't even a little sad about leaving this apartment—not with the incredible home we'd bought together.

The first time I'd visited it, I had to pick my jaw off the floor. The photos hadn't done it justice. It was a mini-mansion on a generous piece of land in a quaint little suburb, perfect for raising a family. Two stories, open-concept rooms that made the space feel even larger, modern design with touches of farmhouse chic—I had marveled at every detail. I could see us making a life there.

While Adam was talking with the realtor, I'd wandered through alone, already imagining children's laughter echoing through the living room, friends running in and out, us snuggled in the master bedroom, family barbecues by the pool in the backyard. That house had given me hope—that everything would work out, and that maybe, just maybe, Adam's parents would come around someday.

"What do you think?" Adam had asked, sneaking up behind me and making me jump.

"This is our home, Adam. This is it," I'd whispered.

"Good, because I've already made an offer. The realtor's confident the owner will accept." He'd grinned, eyes gleaming. "I saw your eyes shooting stars the minute we walked in. I knew this was it."

Tears had welled in my eyes. Even when I thought I couldn't be happier, he found ways to surprise me with more joy. I'd leapt into his arms, squealing.

Now tomorrow, we'd finally move in. Into our home. Where we'd start making memories to last forever.