My hands shook as I paced the living room. Skeeter thought I was playing and tried to give me one of his toys, but I shook my head and ran my hand through my hair. Playing was the last thing on my mind.

I had no reason to be nervous because it was exactly what Tim and I wanted. It happened a little sooner than I expected, but I wasn't scared. Talking to Tim about it wouldn't be hard to do. Yet I was in a panic over it.

I looked at my phone for the millionth time wondering if I should call him and get it over with. Tim would leave work the minute I said we needed to talk. I couldn't pull him away from work, not with my schooling and our bills. Calling him was out of the question.

"What do I do, Skeet?"

He yipped. His tail wagged and he held out his toy.

"I'm sorry, bud, but I'm kinda freakin' out." I checked the time. "What am I supposed to do for three hours?"

Skeeter barked again and curled up on his bed in defeat.

A nap sounded like a great idea.

Tim came home while I was sketching Skeeter. I was chewing on my thumbnail and staring at the bare bones of the sketch. I barely moved when the front door shut.

He bent over to kiss my cheek. "Good day?"

I stood up and followed Tim into the kitchen. "Yes?"

"Why the question?" He grabbed a beer and opened it. He offered me a sip, but I declined.

"Uh, I've been feelin' pretty off lately, so I ran to the clinic to see if I was getting sick."

Tim sat his beer on the counter. Something stirred in his eyes as he studied my face. The corner of his mouth twitched upward.

"Nothin's wrong. But I'll be feelin' pretty sick for a while longer."

A full-blown grin was on his face as he caressed my cheek. "Just say it, Cat."

"Um... We're gonna have a kid."

He crashed his lips into mine. I latched onto his arms to keep from falling as dizziness swept over me. He left a couple of short kisses before hugging me close. "Anything you need, you tell me and I'll take care of it for you."

I nodded against his chest and sniffled. My emotions bubbled over after a whole day worrying over nothing.

"Are you okay with this?" He used his thumb to wipe away my tears.

"Of course I am." My laugh was watery. "I was so nervous to tell you for no reason. And now you know and you're so happy and I just can't keep it together anymore. I'm sorry."

"You can cry. It's okay." He kissed my forehead. "Don't be sorry."

I wanted to apologize again, so I kissed Tim instead.

He stepped away to take in my form. He lovingly pressed the palm of his hand against my abdomen and grinned at me. My heart lept into my throat.

"I guess we need to update one of the extra rooms," I said, placing my hand over his.

A week went by and I was sicker than I'd ever been in my whole life. Mornings weren't bad but as soon as the clock said 3 p.m., I started my night of nausea, vomiting, and needing to cuddle with Tim and Skeeter. Tim looked guilty every time I came back to him after a session with the toilet.

"Stop feeling' bad for me," I said as I brushed my teeth. I barely had a bite of an apple slice before I rushed to the bathroom. "I wanted this baby the same as you."

"This can't be good for either of you, Cat."

"I'll go to the doctor if it'll make you feel better. We've got at least another month and a half of this until I might be okay again, so I don't expect the doctor to say much more than keep fluids in me and try to eat. I'm doin' what I can, Tim." I spat out the toothpaste and rinsed. "I'll tell ya when somethin' is really wrong, okay?"

"Please."

"I will. Now let me try to eat and cuddle with you again."

Tim kissed my forehead. "I'll wait for you on the couch."

I squeezed his hands once and meandered over to the kitchen. I managed to get some fruit and cheese down for the evening with only a vomit scare when we finally got up to go to bed.

As I predicted, the doctor reassured me that I was perfectly healthy and our baby was doing okay, too. He suggested some vitamins and reminded me to keep drinking plenty of fluids. Everything I was told I was already doing. Tim worried too much.

I stopped by a coffee shop to grab a cup of tea and found Tami Taylor there.

"Hey, Mrs. T."

She looked up from her phone and smiled. "Hey, Catherine Barton! Oh, right, you're Catherine Riggins now. Congratulations on the marriage again."

"Thanks. How's Gracie? I feel like I'm so out of touch with everyone out on our little bit of land."

"She's doin' great. And that house is gorgeous. Tim really built that?"

"Billy and I helped. Jason Street came down from New England to help, too. Maybe you, Coach, and Gracie Bell can come over for dinner soon?"

"Yeah! That would be great. I'll talk with Eric and get back to you."

"Awesome." I put a lock of hair behind my ear. "I'll warn you now that dinner hasn't been sitting well with me lately. That doesn't mean I don't want y'all to come over. I just might need a few minutes in the bathroom."

Tami immediately glanced at my stomach and back up to my face. "Are you pregnant?"

I nodded. "Found out a few weeks ago. Nearin' two months."

"That is great! If you need anything, please call me. The first baby is always the hardest." She grabbed her drink as the barista set it on the pick-up counter. "I have a few tricks to help with the first few months if you're interested. They may help with the sickness."

"I appreciate that, Mrs. Taylor. I could use all the help I can get because I'm tired of strugglin' through my dinner. I want to enjoy food again."

"I'll bring what I have by later tonight."

"See ya then."

Tim answered the door while I recovered from my recent bout of puking. I nearly got sick all over my homework.

"Mrs. T. is here," Tim said as he came to my side. "Want her to come in?"

"No. Tell her I'll be out in a second." I spat in the toilet.

He kissed my head and let me clean myself up.

Tami was on the couch when I came out of our bedroom with a small smile. "Sorry. This kid really hates evenings."

"Let me give you something to help."

Tim stood next to me in the kitchen while Tami explained what helped her when she was pregnant with Julie. She was stirring up a drink for me that she claimed would help settle my stomach.

I almost cried from her kindness and the possible relief. I did cry after she left, wailing over how beautiful she was inside and out. Tim hugged me sweetly and brought me to bed.

"Can you grab me a glass of water?" I asked from the front porch.

The front door was wide open to let the mild air sweep into the house. Skeeter loved it because he could go in and out as he pleased. Tim had walked in to get himself a soda while I buried my nose in my book.

He came back out with my water and kissed my lips.

"If only that could replace water," I sighed, sipping from the glass. "I'd never be thirsty again."

Tim chuckled and sat on the porch next to me, leaning back against the house. "It just makes you thirsty for me."

"I hate to admit that you're right." I dogeared the page I was on. "I haven't felt sick today, so that's a good sign. I don't know if it's just a good day or because I'm gettin' closer to the end of the first trimester, but I'm feelin' great."

"Good. When do you need to go back to the doctor?"

"I think after the three-month mark, but I need to check the calendar."

He nodded and gazed out to the horizon.

My bowels churned a little, so I carefully stood. Tim eyed me and I patted his head. "I'm okay. Just need to poop if you really want to know. Chill out."

"All right, all right. Call me if you need anything."

I smiled and went inside.

My stomach cramped a little once I got into our bedroom. Rubbing my stomach, I scurried into the bathroom afraid I was going to have a mess on my hands. The pain only worsened once I sat down.

My body was lying to me as I sat there. I felt like I was dying, but nothing was happening. I was told that I could get some cramps here and there. The sudden sharp pain wasn't fun, but I breathed steadily. I wondered if a little tea would help get things moving.

Everything stopped when I saw blood.

With calm actions, I cleaned up, grabbed a liner for my underwear, and washed my hands. I went to Tim as quick as I could without the stabbing pain getting worse.

"We need to go to the hospital. Now."

"What happened?" Tim put his soda down and stood. "Are you okay?"

Tears welled up in my eyes. "I don't know. I feel like there's a knife in my stomach a-and there was blood. I-I don't know w-w-what this means." I ended with a sob, the worst came to mind.

Tim ran inside to grab his keys and called Skeeter in. Once the door was locked, he wrapped an arm around my waist and led me to his truck. He helped me climb in, wiping away my tears after kissing my lips.

I felt panic settle in my heart.

I hated the blue hospital gown I was forced to wear. I hated the thickness in the air around us. I hated that everything suddenly felt wrong. I hated that we still had no word from the doctor.

Tim's hand tightened around mine when he saw the doctor coming down the hall. I couldn't look up from my lap.

My hands covered my face when I heard the two words I was dreading the moment Tim pulled into the parking lot: "I'm sorry."

All the air in my lungs disappeared as I tried to grasp what the doctor was saying. Gone? Just like that? Nothing? Tim's arm around my shoulder couldn't ground me as my world spun. The blackest pit grew right where our baby should have been. All I felt was a void, nothingness. I didn't even realize I was having a panic attack right there in that hospital bed in front of the doctor. Everything was gone.

The drive home was lost on me. I heard my ragged breathing and the choked sounds coming from me, but not even Tim's grasp on my hand registered. Why did it have to be me?

Tim parked the truck and turned it off. It was the first moment I realized where I was. I didn't want to move.

"Do... Do you want to... to talk about it?"

I clenched my eyes shut when I heard the thickness in his voice, the struggle to keep himself steady. I shook my head and released a shaky sob. I sniffled.

"C-Can I take you inside?"

A slow nod.

Tim got out and went over to me. He put one arm under my knees; the other around my shoulders. He lifted me out of the seat and pulled me close to his chest. I cried against his neck.

Was there something wrong with me? Why couldn't I carry our baby? Would I lose another? Could I even have children? So many questions swirled in my head around the scariest one: did Tim still love me?

Tim placed me on my feet to unlock the front door. He led me inside, his hand warm in mine, and picked me up once more to carry me into our room.

"You should take a bath," he suggested. "It'll help you sleep."

I stared at the collar of his shirt sniffling.

"I can sit next to you or I can get in. Anything... Anything you need."

"I just want to sleep, Tim... Please." I sounded so broken.

He silently placed me on our bed, lying down behind me after I faced the wall.

I didn't want to see the disappointment on his face. How could I ever be a mother if I couldn't keep a baby safe in my body? Tim had to be thinking the same thing.

His arms circled my waist, making fresh tears spill from my eyes. I curled in on myself and clenched his arms in my grasp like I was falling. How could he ever look at me the same way?

Tim's face pressed into my shoulder and he held me tighter. I stilled at the sound of his sniffle.

He was trembling with every slow breath he took, trying to hide it as I wept. His arms never loosened. The shoulder of my shirt was no longer dry and it broke my heart all over again.

It felt like hours before we had some control over our grief. Our breathing settled and the tears were temporarily stopped.

"What... What if I can't have a... a baby?" My voice was hardly a whisper.

"We'll figure it out..." Tim squeezed me again and kissed my shoulder. "W-We'll be okay."

"W-Will you s-s-still love me if-f I can't?"

"I'll never stop."

It was enough to send me over the edge again.

I turned in his arms and sobbed into his chest. It rose and fell shakily as he fought against the emotion building in him again. I latched onto him as if he was my last lifeline. He was my light on the shore as I fought through the waters in my sea of despair.

I didn't recall falling asleep that night. The only thing I knew when I woke up the next morning to a quietly mourning Tim was we were childless, Tim still loved me, and he was hurting just as bad.