Oliver finds his wife of eight months in the family library, a light-weight cream throw covering her legs. Through the wall of open French Doors, a June breeze blows, dissipating the heat from daylight hours as it lifts strands of her chestnut hair. He pauses for a moment, just drinking in the sight of Grace curled up on the sofa, an open book in her lap and her lower lip caught between her teeth as she reads.
He finds himself staggered by the thought that slips through his mind - that this amazingly wonderful and beautiful woman could possibly love him nearly as much as he loves her, that she has tied herself to him for the rest of their natural lives.
"I know you're there," she says softly, a gentle smile pulling at her lips as her eyes never leave the pages of her book.
He chuckles at this, a smile gracing his own lips as he shakes his head to chase away those thoughts as he closes the hall doors. His steps are muffled by thick carpeting as he crosses to join her. "How," he mutters, lifting her blanket covered feet to settle beside her, "do you always know when I'm watching you?"
She reaches for the bookmark in her lap, placing it between the pages before closing and setting aside the book. "The air changes." It's said so quickly and with a simplicity that he is floored. Her clear blue eyes lift to meet his as he lowers her legs to rest across his thighs, their weight now so familiar to him.
"The air changes?" That was not something he was expecting, not even close. No, his thoughts had been towards a sound he must make or perhaps a scent he can no longer smell. But the air changing? It would never enter his mind.
"Yes, and that's all you're getting," she answers, her voice full of happiness. "Is Annie asleep?"
"Finally," he acknowledges, shaking his head at the memory of their daughter asking a hundred and one questions about the summer camp she would begin attending the next morning. "She was excited from what today was, and even more excited to spend the day at summer camp."
"That reminds me," Grace says, reaching behind her to pull out a beautifully wrapped gift. "You have one more Father's Day present."
He takes the small package from her hand, his brow furrowing as he wonders what could be so light. "You and Annie have already given me so much, there's no need for anything else."
"This one is special – and is only from me." She watches as he carefully opens the sparkling blue paper, butterflies fluttering in her stomach as she waits for his reaction to the gift she has been hiding for three days.
"Well now, I'm intrigued." His eyes do not leave the package as he removes the paper, setting it to the side as he reveals a plain, brown box. He wastes no time in removing the lid, his brow furrowing even further; "if that's even possible" Grace fines herself thinking; as he stares at the small yellow cap inside. Lifting it free, he frowns as he turns it over, looking for something – anything – to explain what exactly he's to do with it. "It's…lovely."
"It's not for you," Grace says, trying to stifle the laugh that has bubbled up inside of her, pushing the butterflies away.
"That's a relief," he says with just that in his voice – relief. "Who's it for, and more importantly, what's it for?"
She smiles, reaching for the small, knit cap. "It's for the baby. December is a cold month so we'll want to keep their head warm."
"Oh, that makes sense."
Grace waits, eyes alight as she waits for Oliver to fully comprehend what she has just said. "3…2…ah, there we go." She thinks to herself, watching as his eyes go wide in shock as he stares at the item in her hands for a second, his gaze shifting quickly to her midriff before meeting her eyes.
"Baby?"
Biting her lower lip, she nods her head yes.
The shock turns to surprise and finally joy as he reaches to cup her cheeks in his palms. "We're having a baby."