Eh

“Darlin’, I’m home,” he yelled as he walked in the door of your new home, his bag falling to the floor in the entryway.

He’d been gone for three days longer than he’d anticipated, and he’d really missed you.

The night before he’d left on his latest mission, you had gotten stuck at work - “babies don’t come on a planned schedule” you’d told him when you called to let him know you were stuck in the middle of an active delivery with a Mom who’d been laboring for over 37 hours. He knew that was the nature of your job as an LDR nurse, but he also knew that this was your weekend off. He’d told anyone who would listen to him at Statesman HQ that he was NOT to be bothered.

As he walked through the hall towards the kitchen, he noticed that sweet smell he loved so much. You’d made your grandmother’s famous cinnamon rolls, and his mouth was watering just thinking about them. Spotting them on a platter next to the sink, he started to reach out for one.

“No sir, not yet.” You’d come in from the back deck, your hair pulled into a messy bun, wearing one of his button-downs and a pair of cutoff denim shorts. “Those are for dessert.”

Whiskey pulled you into his arms, kissing you passionately. “Mmmm….I can think of something else sweeter than those damned sticky buns that I really want to eat for dessert.”

Swatting at him playfully, you smirked. “You will not ruin your dinner, not after I’ve been working on it for the last three hours making it just the way you like it.” You pointed out on the patio at the white smoke rising from the grill. “Went to Pete’s and got your favorite cut - a 12 oz. Porterhouse and it is currently slow cooking to perfection.”

“Seems like you might have missed me a little bit, honeysuckle.” He lifted you up into his arms and seated you on the island, his hands cradling your cheeks before diving in to kiss your neck.

“Jack, I always miss you when you’re gone but today - well, today is a special day. I’ve got to make sure everything is perfect.” You kissed him sweetly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to change out of these clothes - I’ve been wearing them all day and I smell like hickory wood.”

As you hopped down from the counter, you smacked his ass. “You just get comfortable, babe. I’ve taken care of everything for tonight.”

Jack sat down at the kitchen table as you walked up the stairs, wracking his brain. Your anniversary was in October - you’d gotten married in a small ceremony in the Smoky Mountains during the peak fall colors. Your birthday was in April, so that wasn’t it, either. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his entire calendar for any indication of what he might be missing, but there was nothing.

Pouring a glass of whiskey, he wandered into the living room and flipped on the television, noticing the three wrapped gifts sitting on the other side of the sofa.

Shit, he thought. Whatever it is, I’m fucked if I don’t remember it soon, and it won’t be in a good way, either. He used his phone to quickly call in a favor and hoped that it would be enough.

Thirty minutes later, you padded back down the stairs, wearing a pastel-colored sundress. “Jack, sweetheart,” you called out as you walked through the house. “Honey, are you…”

He was standing in the kitchen, a large vase of multi-colored roses sitting in the middle of the table. “For you, my love.,” he said, kissing your forehead. “They were supposed to be delivered earlier today. I’m so sorry they’re late.”

You smiled at him, noticing his smirk. “Well, let me get the food off the grill and we’ll eat.”

Dinner was amazing, and the two of you caught up on what had gone on over the past week. Jack did everything he could to try and work out what date he was forgetting, but he never could get anything out of you. As you both worked together in the kitchen to clean up, he looked at you and spoke. “Honeysuckle, I’m so sorry. I have no idea what today is but I appreciate all of your work to make this day special for me.” He wrapped you in his arms. “Can you help me remember?”

You chuckled as you closed the door on the dishwasher, grabbing his hand and dragging him into your shared living room. “Maybe this will help.”

You reached over and grabbed the wrapped packages. “Open this one first.”

He ripped into the paper and opened the box, pulling out the black shoulder bag. “This is...great,” he said looking at you confused. “I’ve needed a new carry-on bag. Thank you, love.”

You chuckled as you handed him the next box. “Now, this one.” He opened it, looking down and pulling the stetson-adorned bear out of the box. “It looks like you, don’t you think?”

He smiled, still confused. “Sugar, I’m sorry, but I’m lost here.”

You smiled as you handed him the last, smallest box. “Here you go.”

He pulled the ribbon on the box and opened it, looking down at the item inside as his eyes got wide.

“Happy Father’s Day,” you whispered, noticing the tears forming in his eyes.

“Sugar, are you shittin’ me?” he said, pulling the purple and white stick out of the box, the digital word PREGNANT reading on the window.

“It’s true,” you said, wiping away one tear that had slipped from his eye. “I’ve got 12 more positive tests sitting in a box underneath the bathroom sink and a verified blood test from the doctor. All of them say the same thing. Baby, we’re gonna have a baby.”

He pulled you up to standing and kissed you. “How far along?”

“According to Dr. Edmondson, about 14 weeks. You know my cycle’s never been regular and I thought that maybe all the extra stress from work and the move was causing me to be late, but…”

His hands wandered down to your stomach. “There’s a little one in there.” He knelt and kissed it gently. “Our little one.”

You cradled his head as he continued to place gentle kisses along your waistline. “Yep, and since tomorrow is Father’s Day, I figured this was the right time to tell you. The bag and bear - the bag is for you to use as a diaper bag, and the bear - that’s for the baby to have you with them when you are away.” You smiled down at him. “I mean, I know we didn’t plan this,” you sighed.

“Honeysuckle, sometimes babies don’t come on a planned schedule,” he said, parroting your words from earlier in the week back at you. “And you’re healthy? Is the baby healthy?”

You pulled him back up into your arms. “We’re both good. The doctor said that now that I’m in the second trimester, I should be able to continue with life as usual until I’m about 34 weeks.”

He smiled into your neck. “I’m gonna be a Dad.” he breathed.

You laughed as he scooped you into his arms bridal-style, heading up the stairs.

“Jack, what are you doing?”