A mug sat beside my bed, along with a small plate of toast and the flowers Ethan had bought the previous evening.
He was already dressed.
That alone was unusual. Our anniversary wasn’t a workday for him, and he normally stayed in bed long enough to make me complain about stealing all the blankets.
“Happy anniversary,” he said.
I smiled sleepily.
“Five years.”
“Five years.”
I reached for him, and he kissed me before resting his palm against my stomach.
“How are my girls?”
“We don’t know it’s a girl.”
“I have a feeling.”
“You also had a feeling our first child would arrive on a Tuesday.”
“And I was only one day off.”
I laughed.
Then I noticed that he was nervous.
He kept glancing at his phone, then toward the bedroom door, as if he were waiting for something.
“Ethan, what’s going on?”
He sat on the edge of the bed.
