Author's Note: Babymoon Day 2! I love Oliver and Shane as they navigate someplace new and try to balance sightseeing and alone time. So far, I think they're finding a pretty good balance. I hope you enjoy another day in Dublin! I have to say, after all this research, I'm getting a lot of Visit Ireland ads on my social media feeds. I'll get there someday.

As always, Martha Williamson and the brilliant actors who brought these characters to life deserve all the credit.

Chapter 4

Shane stretched her arms wide, yawning herself awake. The jet lag from their trip had caught up with her, and she slept soundly nestled into the plush, cloud-like mattress and down pillows. Without the jarring buzz of her phone alarm, she woke naturally as the morning sunlight painted a stripe across her face through a slit in the curtains and gently roused her from sleep. She rolled over, expecting Oliver to be on his side, patiently waiting for her to wake. But in an unprecedented turn of events, she was the one awake, and Oliver's eyes were still closed. She impatiently watched the slow rise and fall of his chest as he took steady, even breaths. Waking up next to him every day was something she'd dreamt of for so long, and it was every bit as wonderful as she'd ever imagined. She studied his profile and hoped the baby boy she was carrying would look like his father. Their baby would be Oliver's only blood relative, and despite the family they with Norman, Rita, Joe, and Bill, she knew how important it was for Oliver to have a piece of himself carried on in the world.

His eyes remained closed, but he spoke in his froggy morning voice. "How unusual for you to wake up before me."

Shane swatted him playfully as he rolled over to face her. "Good morning, Oliver. I'm sorry if I woke you. Did you sleep well?"

"You did not, and I did. How did you sleep?"

"Very well until the sun woke me."

She closed the slight gap between them and gently ran her fingers through his hair, attempting to tame the cowlick he woke with every morning. She moved her hand around to the back of his head and drew him toward her until their lips met in a tender, lingering kiss.

"Mmmm, it is a good morning, Mrs. O'Toole," Oliver said with fire in his eyes.

They enjoyed a relaxed morning, treated themselves to room service and breakfast in bed, and made plans for afternoon sightseeing. Shane gave a light-hearted laugh as Oliver's face contorted in sheer horror when she carried the breakfast tray to the bed. Her attempt to silence his objection with a sweet kiss quickly reignited their earlier passion and nearly caused her to spill the tray. Regaining her senses, she soothed his objection to breakfast in bed by assuring him that housekeeping would change the sheets, so crumbs shouldn't be a concern.

They strolled down the same street as the day before on their way to visit Trinity College. Shane limited herself to one pair of heels for the trip and was thankful she had stylish yet comfortable walking shoes as she struggled to keep up with Oliver's brisk pace.

"Oliver, Trinity College has been there for over 400 years. It's not going anywhere."

"I'm sorry?"

"Darling, I need you to please slow down a bit. We're having a hard time keeping up with you."

Oliver slowed his stride. An apologetic smile crossed his face. "I'm sorry, my love. I may be a bit anxious to get there. From what I've read, there is quite a bit I want to see. I want to make sure we have enough time."

Shane clutched Oliver's arm. "I'm sure we'll be able to see everything. I'm looking forward to exploring it, too." She playfully nudged him with her shoulder. "I think, Oliver, your love of old things might be rubbing off on me."

Shane gazed fondly at Oliver as he tossed his head back. Carefree laughter rang out, bringing a genuine smile to her face. When her husband first suggested the trip, she wondered if he would be able to unwind enough so they could really enjoy their time together. Hearing his rare laugh told her he'd done just that. A kaleidoscope of butterflies took flight in her stomach, and she quickly put her hand on it as if she could settle them with a light touch. Was Oliver's laughter causing this sensation, or could it have been the baby?

Oliver abruptly stopped when he saw her startled expression. "What's the matter?" His lightheartedness quickly turned to concern.

"It's nothing, Oliver, really." She waited, wondering if she would feel it again.

Oliver's eyes narrowed, and deep lines formed across his forehead. "Why are you holding your stomach?"

They were standing in the midst of a busy street, people rushing by them at a fast clip. Shane tugged on Oliver's sleeve. "C'mon, darling, let's keep walking before we get swept away by the crowd." She looped her hand through his arm and snuggled close to him.

He returned them to their pace but continued to push her for an answer. "Shane, what happened back there?"

"Oliver, I'm sure it's nothing serious. I just felt a fluttering when I heard you laugh."

Oliver's lips flattened into a thin, tight line. "What does that mean? Fluttering?"

A blush spread across her cheeks as she nervously giggled, struggling to explain to Oliver the impact he had on her. She flashed him a smile, hoping she'd alleviated his concern. "When you laughed, I thought I felt butterflies in my stomach, but then I wondered if it was the baby moving."

Oliver stopped again. "Oh, my goodness, do you really think you can feel him moving?"

"I don't know. Maybe? I don't know what it feels like, and I haven't read that far in the baby book."

His features relaxed, and he seemed reasonably mollified by her explanation. Oliver gently pulled her close and brought his face closer to hers. One brow arched, and the corner of his lip lifted in a half smile. His lips brushed her ear. "So, I give you butterflies?"

His warm breath tickled her ear, and a shiver ran down her spine. The bubbling sensation returned. She cradled his face in her hand. "You always have, Mr. O'Toole."

He wrapped her small, delicate hand in his and brought it to his lips. "You give me butterflies too, Mrs. O'Toole."

They shared a brief, tender kiss, but it captured the depth of their love and their promises for the future.

Finally, they arrived at their destination and stood in front of Regent House at Trinity College. They walked through the arched entry of College Green, which brought them to the expansive Front Square. Cobblestone walkways connecting the campus's ancient buildings were filled with students making their way to their next class or maybe the library. Statuesque trees that were beginning their transition into the burnt orange, fiery reds, and golden yellows of fall dotted the luscious, perfectly manicured, emerald green lawns. Even with the buzz of activity swirling around them, they paused to soak in the deep sense of history. The atmosphere was surprisingly tranquil, a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of the city just beyond the buildings that bordered the campus.

"Oliver, look at the bell tower." Shane pulled up the Wikipedia information for Trinity College. "The campanile was built in 1853." Shoulder to shoulder and hand in hand, they walked over to stand beneath the one-hundred-foot structure. "Listen to this. There's a superstition," she read, "that says if you are standing underneath when the bell rings, it's a bad omen for your impending exams."

"I don't really believe in superstitions and bad omens," Oliver said pragmatically.

Shane's eyes rolled before she even knew it. "I know that, Oliver. I'm just telling you what Wikipedia says."

"Wiki-what?"

"Wikipedia. It's like an online encyclopedia."

"What's wrong with the printed version?"

Shane held up her phone and shook it in front of Oliver. "Let's see, heavy volumes of printed information that are quickly outdated or all of that information constantly updated and available with the touch of my finger. What do you think?"

Oliver's eyes narrowed. "I suppose an argument could be made for both."

"Yes, I suppose it could be, but we'll save that discussion for another day." She winked and grabbed Oliver's hand, weaving their fingers together. The unmistakable jolt that coursed through her every time their skin touched sent a surge of electricity down her spine. Then, she caught him off-guard, kissing him under the one hundred and seventy-year-old bell tower. "I wonder if it's bad luck to kiss while standing under the campanile when the bell rings."

"Luck is the religion of the lazy," he repeated his signature phrase that she'd heard many times.

Shane directed them toward the Old Library. "Yes, yes, I know, darling." She directed him away from the bell tower. "This way."

They waited in the queue for a short time before entering the impressive Book of Kells exhibit. Oliver's love of medieval, Latin, and old English texts was no secret to her. Just as he had eagerly looked forward to this part of their trip, she was equally enthusiastic about sharing the experience with him. Her goal was to gain a deeper appreciation for his love of history.

The actual book, an illustrated manuscript of the four gospels of Jesus Christ, was over twelve hundred years old. Not only was it considered one of the most beautiful books ever written, but it was also one of the world's oldest surviving literary works. It could only be seen through a glass case, which was the focal point of the room. The exhibition hall was filled with oversized images of the intricate art found in the book and descriptions of each. Her art history knowledge was tested as she'd never studied anything dating that far back in time.

As they moved around the room, she could have stayed by Oliver's side, peppering him with questions and engaging in conversation, but instead, she hung back, giving her history-loving husband space to immerse himself entirely in the exhibit experience. Her eyes sparkled, and a genuine smile spread across her face as she watched him lingering at each stage of the presentation, his hands clasped firmly behind his back as he leaned into each display.

She noticed a young boy, maybe six or seven, approaching Oliver and standing next to him. Oliver didn't see him at first, but the child must have asked a question because he turned toward him and began speaking. She felt a wave of tenderness as Oliver crouched down to the child's level and started pointing at the painting. She couldn't make out their conversation, but the words they exchanged weren't necessary for her to realize that the two were having quite a discussion. She blinked rapidly to hold back the tears that stung her eyes as she looked at Oliver with new eyes. He wasn't just the man she adored with every fiber of her being. He was also the father of their son. Her hand rested gently on her tummy as if to reassure baby O'Toole that he was already loved and cherished.

Oliver turned and caught her gaze with his unwavering stare. His mouth lifted into a half-smirk, and he quickly made his way through the crowd to her side.

He inched closer and whispered. "A penny for your thoughts, Shane."

She trembled as she always did when his warm breath tickled her ear. "I was just watching your conversation."

Oliver turned and waved his hand at the boy who was still standing there but had been joined by his parents. "Ah, yes, that young man was quite bright and asked very astute questions."

Shane looped her arm in his and kissed his cheek, her lips lingering on her husband's chiseled jaw as she breathed in the smell of his cologne. "I have to be honest, Oliver. For a moment there, I had an image flash into my head of you with our son."

"Did you really? That's funny."

"What's funny? I thought it was very sweet."

"I just mean, I had a similar vision of you yesterday."

Shane shrugged. "That's a good sign, actually?"

"How so, Ms. McInerney?"

Her face glowed as he called her by his pet name for her. "It leads me to believe that we're beginning to embrace the reality of a child."

Oliver covered Shane's hand with his and squeezed. "That is a good sign."

The Long Room could have been named Oliver's playground. It was every bit as impressive as the travel sites purported it to be. Towering two-story bookcases filled with ancient leather-bound volumes and rare manuscripts ran for the sixty-five meters of the room. The ceiling was impressive in its own right, with dark wood beams curving gracefully, creating an arch that added to the room's majestic atmosphere. Busts of famous writers, philosophers, and scholars carved from white marble were placed along the central aisle.

Shane saw Oliver's mouth drop as he lifted his head, clearly unsure where to look first. The scent of polished wood and old books filled her senses as she soaked in the history and grandeur of the space. They wandered through, not sure what to look at first. It was one of the rare times Shane had seen Oliver speechless.

She pulled on his arm. "Oliver, stop."

"What?"

"It's the bust of Shakespeare. Let me take a picture of you next to it."

"Oh, I don't think so," he scoffed.

"Come on, Oliver," she coaxed. "It will be a cute picture."

"All right." Oliver stood next to the statue, looking very somber.

"Smile, Oliver," Shane waited for a slight movement of Oliver's lips before snapping several pictures.

They found a rare copy of the 1916 Proclamation of the Irish Republic. They'd read about it the day before when they toured the General Post Office. Now, here it was, a tangible link to the past.

As they continued through the Long Room, they discovered the Trinity College harp, an ancient instrument dating back to the 14th or 15th century that had become Ireland's national symbol.

The library was conveniently close to the Douglas Hyde Gallery, known for its eclectic collection of contemporary art from both Irish and international artists. This art was a better fit with her area of study, and she was quickly drawn to the diverse exhibits, each one uniquely fascinating. In the middle of all the unconventional pieces, Shane couldn't help but notice Oliver standing awkwardly. She covered her smirk as she watched him cock his head to one side as if trying to make sense of the abstract piece he was studying.

She walked up behind him and rested her chin on his shoulder. "A penny for your thoughts, Mr. O'Toole."

Oliver swung around to face his wife. "I'm not quite sure what to think about this, Ms. McInerney."

Shane smiled as she reached down and took Oliver's hand. "Well, it looks like a chess match, but instead of kings, queens, pawns, and such, it's historical figures all vying for power." She did her best to describe the art simply but wasn't convinced he had any more understanding than before her explanation.

"Interesting."

Shane knew Oliver-speak, and his one-word answer told her he still wasn't sure what to think of it.

"Are you ready to go, Oliver?"

"Yes," he responded quickly. "But only if you're sure."

"Yes, darling, I'm sure. I know this isn't your cup of tea, and besides, I'm getting hungry. Can we find someplace on the way home to grab a quick dinner?"

"Marvelous idea, my love."

Before leaving campus, they had one more building they wanted to visit. The chapel was across the square, and they hurried over so they could get in before it closed for the day. Shane stepped inside and was met with the same scent of highly polished wood she experienced in the Long Room. They spoke in hushed tones, pointing to the incredible arched stained glass windows that encircled the room.

Shane reached out, her fingers running along the grooves and ridges that time had worn into the ages-old dark wood panels that lined each wall. "Oliver, this reminds me a bit of the church where we got married."

Oliver nodded. "It does have a similar atmosphere, though on a much grander scale."

"Imagine getting married here. What a beautiful setting," Shane said dreamily.

"I thought the setting for our wedding was perfect, didn't you?" His response was clipped.

Shane backtracked quickly. "Oh, yes, Oliver. It was. I'm sorry if I made you think I didn't love it. I did, and I couldn't imagine us getting married anywhere else." She scanned the room and saw that no one was in close proximity. She sealed her statement with a gesture Oliver might not find appropriate in a house of worship, but at the moment, she didn't really care, and she smiled against his lips when she sensed his agreeable response.

Later that night, they lay next to each other, discussing the day and what was on the schedule for tomorrow. Oliver cautiously extended his hand over Shane's tummy. He glanced at her and asked.

"Is it okay?"

Shane laughed, "What, to put your hand on my belly?" First, she sought his lips, their passionate connection igniting a fiery spark that left them both breathless when they finally parted. "Of course, Oliver." His gentle touch on her stomach created a warm sensation. "I doubt you'll feel anything. I haven't felt the fluttering again since earlier today." Her eyebrow arched as she reached out to gently caress Oliver's face, her thumb tracing the line of his jaw. She winked. "I guess it was you that gave me butterflies."

A familiar twinkle flashed in Oliver's eyes as they lingered on Shane's. His lips curved into a smile that lit up his face. His voice was warm and husky as he rolled toward her. "Well, let's see if I can do it again."