There were only three things Henry McCord wanted: a hot shower, a soft bed, and his wife's warm body snuggled up against him.
"5 more minutes," he muttered to himself. It was nearly 1:30 am, and he was just getting home from work. He loved his job, but he loved being at home with his best friend more.
As he pulled onto the dirt road leading up to their horse farm - Elizabeth's inheritance from her parents - he could see a light on in the front room. A wave of panic washed over him. It wasn't like Elizabeth to be up this late. Had he missed a message? No, his pager was with him all day. But why was she still up? Was everything okay?
He raced up the front steps two at a time and hastily unlocked the door. As he stepped inside, his anxiety quickly faded, and a smile began to form at the corners of his mouth. There, laying on the couch in front of him was his sleeping wife. She had fallen asleep with pair of Walkman headphones stretched across her belly, one arm clutching an open copy of "What to Expect When You're Expecting" to her chest, the other arm bent at an angle above her head.
He crept over and knelt beside the couch. At seven months pregnant, she was already an incredible mother. He slid the book out from under her hand, and lifted the headphones from her stomach. He was just about to set the Walkman on the table when he paused. He ran his finger along the buttons and pressed eject, stifling a snicker when he read the label on the tape - he would tease her about that later. Finally, just before climbing the stairs, he draped a blanket over her and switched off the light. As much as he wanted to hold her, there was no sense in disturbing her slumber.
Moments later, Elizabeth startled awake to the squeaking of footsteps on the old wooden floors above. Her training as a member of the CIA flashed through her brain as she prepared to fight off an intruder. Then she noticed the blanket.
"Henry," she sighed, half in gratitude, half in exasperation. She pulled herself up off the couch, noting that it didn't quite provide the back support that her growing body needed, and started up the steps to join him.
As she rounded the corner into the master suite, Henry stepped out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his midsection.
"Hey, sleeping beauty," he murmured.
"Hey, yourself," she retorted, "you scared me. I thought you were a burglar and I was prepared to take you down."
"Oh, yeah? How? With that Red Hot Chili Peppers cassette you were armed with?"
"For your information, I was giving our daughter a -"
Henry kissed Elizabeth, cutting her off mid-sentence.
"- a proper musical education."
"Right."
Henry turned and rifled through his dresser, then threw on a pair of pajamas.
"But speaking of Red Hots," Elizabeth continued, "I could really go for a box of those right now."
"Seriously? At this time of night? Babe, no. You know you'll have crazy dreams."
Elizabeth batted her eyelashes and feigned sadness as she rubbed her belly.
"They're for the baby. She wants them!"
Henry groaned, knowing it was a lost cause.
"Thanks, hon!" Elizabeth hollered as she climbed into bed and Henry started down the stairs.
As Henry rummaged through the pantry, looking for the cinnamon candies that would fulfill Elizabeth's midnight craving, a thought popped into his head. He might be a Marine, one of his nation's strongest and bravest men, but he was weak when it came to his wife and daughter. He laughed and shook his head in disbelief at himself as he located the package and climbed back upstairs.
Returning to their room, Henry noted that Elizabeth had already fallen back asleep. He quietly laid the Red Hots on her bedside table, climbed in bed beside her, and laid a kiss on her forehead as he switched off the lamp.
As he drifted off to sleep, he couldn't help but wonder in amazement at his luck. He was so in love with his wife, and was already completely enamored with their unborn daughter. The two of them had him wrapped around their little fingers, but he wouldn't have it any other way.