A month later, I sat at the bar downstairs, working on my third glass. My hair was a mess and I felt shabby. I ran my fingers through my unkempt auburn locks that sat in a mess upon my head. I downed the glass and slid a coin over to the bartender. He took my silent order and refilled the glass. I sighed. This is not what I should be doing on a Sunday afternoon with my sick Betsey upstairs and a mound of work stacked on the table for me. I was drowning myself in liquor, thinking maybe that would help with my aching heart for my dear wife as she seemed to not improve and refused on me fetching a doctor. I was failing at being a husband and I'd only been married for four months.

God, if I thought I was a terrible husband then…

I staggered up the stairs to check on Betsey and get some work done before I passed out. Third night in a row I had done this. It had to stop. Tomorrow, I told myself. Tomorrow would be different. And my it was, just not how I expected.

I reached our room and fiddled with the key. Eliza was sitting in the armchair by the fire, her eyes closed. She seemed very peaceful. Her hands are folded neatly in her lap. For a moment I think she's asleep. Then she speaks.

"Hello, Lovely," she says quietly.

"How are you feeling?" I ask as I walk over to her. I kneel beside her and she doesn't even open her eyes.

"Just fine. I want to talk to you about something. If you're too drunk it'll have to wait I suppose."

I clear my throat. "I'm fine, it's fine." I lie. "We can talk now. What's on your mind, Angel?"

She finally opens her eyes and turns and gazes into mine. She grins slightly. She's trying to hide her smile, I can tell. She presses her forehead against mine. "Give me your hand," she whispers.

I do. She takes it and presses it against her stomach. "You probably can't feel it yet, but there's a little heartbeat in there."

I bite my lip. "Are you sure?"

"Sure as anything."

The words reached my ears slowly, one letter at a time. It felt as if someone had paused time and I stood there, staring at her in disbelief. My other hand took hers slowly.

"I love you so much," I say as I firmly kiss her forehead. "So damn much."

She places her finger over my lips. "Don't you dare use that language around me, Alexander. Especially not around the baby."

I kiss her finger. "Right. I apologize."

She kisses me softly and I rest both my hands on her belly. My child was there. Our child. Together. We had done this together, simply through love. I draw circles with my thumb.

"This is surreal," I murmur.

"Quite." She smiles. "And you aren't even the one carrying the child."

I chuckle. My lips meet hers and I then kneel before her. I kiss her stomach and she smiles. "Do you know when you'll start to show?"

"A few weeks maybe?"

I nod. "Lovely. Oh Betsey, a baby!" I stand up and pull her up with me. My arms wrap around her and I hold her close.

"Not so tight, Alex!" she says happily.

"Oh, sorry." I loosen my grip and kiss her cheek. "When will the baby be born?"

"Sometime in the winter. I'm not quite sure."

I smile and kiss her as my hands cradle her stomach. I wonder if our little baby knew. Knew how much his parents loved him. Knew how much we would sacrifice.

She giggles when I kiss her stomach. It sounded as twinkling bells, the sweetest sound to grace those ears in a while.

"That tickles, Alex!" She runs her fingers through my hair as I lean back on my heels and rest my forehead against her not yet large abdomen. She is glowing with ethereal happiness I had never before witnessed in someone.

I sit in the armchair and pull her into my lap. "I love you more than you could ever wrap your head around," I purr against her lips as I kiss her.

She wraps her arms around my neck and crosses her ankles in my lap. "I love you more than anything. I'm so, so happy about this."

"So am I. We're going to be parents."

She buries her face in my shoulder and I kiss her cheek. I want this moment to last forever.