Tom opens and closes his jaw, then very carefully and slowly stands from his office chair. When his eyes fall on the small, tottering figure of Rosie, he feels a warm blend of relief and embarrassment swirl through his chest.

“Rosie? What are you doing, darling?” 

Tom sits back down, briefly saying a few words to the patient journalist before opening up his arms for his daughter. Rosie drags her feet across the floor, her bed of thick curls a mess and her deep brown eyes tired. She’s pouting, but when she sees Tom’s hands are open and waiting, her small lips quirk into a toothy smile. 

“Daddy!” she exclaims, small voice a squeak. She throws herself into Tom’s lap, curling her tiny arms around his torso and burrowing her face into his chest as a deep chuckle leaves Tom’s lips. She’s warm and smells of laundry detergent, and Tom absently runs the tip of his index over her blue and red printed pyjamas. “Why you in here, daddy?” 

Tom stills, his hand pausing on the back of her head as he stops playing with her hair and remembers he’s still connected to a journalist. An embarrassed smile finds his lips as he redirects his attention to the man.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, speaking lowly. “My daughter, she…” Tom breaks off, glancing down at Rosie. She’s peering up at him with curious eyes. “Well, I’ll put her back to bed, then I’ll come back. I’m--”

“No!” Rosie’s lower lip starts to wobble, and tears pool in her eyes. “Stay with you.”

Tom arches a brow, trying to fend off a tantrum with soft tones and gentle words. “Darling,” he starts, voice low, “I’m on a work call. It’s very important. I’ll be back in ten minutes, okay?”

His daughter shakes her head, reaching up and curling her fists around the front of his designer shirt. Tom sighs, briefly glancing up at the ceiling. He tries to think of a way to explain to his exhausted daughter that she needs to play nice and go back to sleep, but it’s difficult when she’s pouting up at him like that. Tom is completely gone for her, and everyone in his family knows it, Rosie included. 

In the end, Tom’s decision gets made for him.

“Tom?” the journalist pipes up. “It’s fine. You can keep her in here for the rest of the interview if you want. I only have a few more questions to ask.”

Tom releases a breath, tilting his head slightly to the side as he looks at the screen. “Are you sure, dude? I can… I can take her out.”

“I’m already keeping you up at 2am, so it’s fine. Just call it evens.”

He thinks on it for a moment before nodding. Tom knows that if he takes Rosie back to bed, the only thing that’ll prevent her from padding back to his office is you. You’re six months pregnant, and Tom doesn’t want to disturb you.

“Rosie,” Tom murmurs. “The nice man said you can stay, but you’ll need to be quiet, okay?”

She nods her head quickly, smiling widely. “Okay.” 

The interview continues, and Tom’s nerves are quick to fade. For a while, Rosie sits in his lap, nimble fingers playing with one of the toy trucks Tom keeps sitting on his desk, her mouth releasing small sounds of narration as she zooms the toy over the front of the desk. Tom’s relieved when she tires of that and curls into him, pushing her face back into his front and hanging on as her eyes shut.

Through the screen, Tom can see just how much of her figure is in the frame, but it doesn’t seem to be an issue. He answers the rest of his questions with his daughter cuddled up against him, one of his hands holding the back of her head as the other sits at the bottom of her spine. Every few minutes, he leaves an absent kiss to the top of her head, and each time she makes a noise in her sleep, his smile quirks wider.

“Thanks so much, Tom. This has been an honour,” the interviewer finishes.

Tom nods, speaking quieter as Rosie’s gentle snores fill the quiet space. “Thanks, man. Talk soon.” 

The call disconnects a few moments later, and Tom reaches forward to close the lid of his laptop. With a sigh, he sits back in his office chair, weary eyes falling shut. 

“Daddy?”

Tom cracks open an eye, grimacing when Rosie reaches up and tugs on his hair. 

“Yes, darling?”

“Sleep now?” 

He nods, a tired smile on his face.

Tom finds it hard to concentrate for the next few hours, distracted by the sounds of loud, childish laughter coming from the room beside his office. He’s so off his game that Harrison has to pick up the slack. Eventually, Tom decides he needs a breather, so he shoves the largest stack of papers at Harrison, pats him on the shoulder, and leaves his office. He walks out towards the living room, moving quietly, intrigued to figure out what you’ve been doing so noisily and enjoyably all afternoon.

His breath hitches in his throat as he settles in the doorway, leaning up against it as he watches the scene in front of him: you, Rory, and a huge mess all around you both. There are collections of bad paintings and scrawled drawings, littered toys, even...wonkily iced biscuits…? Tom blinks a few times, snapping out of his daze as his gaze shifts onto you. You’re sat in the middle of it all, cross-legged as you listen to Rory tell you a story. Small gasps of excitement and noises of encouragement come from you every few minutes as you prompt him to continue, looking at the child, utterly enthralled.

Tom feels his heart do a backflip in his chest.

He can’t explain it, but all of a sudden, he’s overcome with the strongest desire to start a family with you. The thought of being able to have this with you—a kid, sharing the best parts of you both— that he can love, and raise, and protect…it’s perfect. Tom imagines your child and tears spring to his eyes almost immediately, taking him completely off guard.

Tom’s always wanted children, but he’d suppressed that desire many years ago. The mob is no place for children. It’s hard, and brutal, and dangerous. He’s known for as long as he’s been leader that he’d never be able to indulge, not like his men around him have. It wouldn’t be fair—too dangerous, too much risk. Not to mention the responsibility that would be passed to whoever his eldest was. Tom would never want to pass such a heavy crown to his child—never.

Just, the house has been child-proofed. Rory is wearing the largest smile that Tom has ever seen, in the centre of the mansion. You’re here, grinning at Harrison’s nephew, your entire figure aglow. Tom wonders, seriously, for the first time in a very, very long time, if it’d be possible.

He thinks about it some more as he watches you play around with Rory, the two of you passing back and forth a tennis ball. Tom finds himself stroking his chin.

You’ve changed a lot of things about Tom’s life since you entered it, many years ago. You’ve made him happier—lighter, less jaded. You’ve made him believe in love again, believe in himself and his abilities as a man. You’re nurtured his heart and helped him grow immeasurably, and….

Tom wants to have kids. He wants to have kids with you, and suddenly it’s the only thing he can think about.

“God, Y/N, thank you so much.” Harrison’s suddenly there, pushing past Tom to scoop up his nephew. Tom isn’t really listening, just watching, absorbed, as you kiss Rory’s forehead and promise he can come over again soon to play again. He’s so out of it that he misses Haz saying his goodbyes, only coming back to earth when you walk over to him and snap your fingers in front of his face.

“Tom? Are you in there?”

He blinks a few times, slowly letting your face draw into focus.  

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry.” He reaches out to hold your waist, a small smile finding his lips as you lean up to kiss his cheek. You meet his eyes, and Tom can’t keep it in. He has to know. “Do you, uh, want kids?”

Your expression shifts into one of intrigue as you hum. “Yeah,” you say. You run your fingers over the collar of his shirt. “I’d love kids.”

Tom releases a breath.

“With me?”

You laugh. “Well, yeah,” you say, rolling your eyes. “We’d make the cutest kids. Can you imagine them running around? My eyes, your hair…” You reach up and muss up Tom’s hair, causing him to grunt.

“Oi.”

“Shh, pretty boy.” You card your fingers through his hair more gently, your eyes soft. “Why do you ask?”

Tom rolls his thumbs over your sides.

“Watching you with Rory… Made me wonder if we could have that too,” he admits. Tom can feel his cheeks flushing red. “I want it, love. I want it so badly.”

You nod, and Tom’s a little surprised to see tears in your eyes. One of your hands shifts to the back of his head, and you use it as leverage to kiss him, deeply and passionately.

“I would love that,” you say, whispering against his lips. “I want kids with you, Tom. I… I want so many kids with you. I want to raise them with you, and love them with you, and… And I want them to be ours.” You break off, breathing heavily. “I want it more than anything.”

Tom’s eyes are sparkling, and he pushes his forehead to rest against yours. “Now?”

You nod. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“I’m ready now. I want it now.”

You cup his cheek. “You do..?”

“Yeah.” Tom tilts his head and kisses the palm of your hand. “You’re everything to me, Y/N. I love you more than I ever thought was possible, and I know I’ll love our kids even more. I want to do this with you, if you’ll let me.”

You kiss him again, lips lingering there.

“Yes,” you say. “Let’s do it.”

Tom breathes out the deepest sigh of relief he’s ever felt. He ends up kissing you, deeper this time, his heart feeling freer than ever before.

“Love you so much,” he mutters.

Tom appears from the bathroom a moment later, shaving foam covering his chin, a glass of water in his hand. There’s a white fluffy towel hanging around his waist, dangerously low and exposing his v-line. You smirk, wiggling your eyebrows at him as he brings over your water.

“There you go, my darling,” he announces. You’re sitting in bed, resting up against the headboard with your hand resting on your bare stomach. You’d given up on real clothes a few weeks ago, and haven’t looked back since. Most days, you don’t even bother wearing shirts anymore—far more comfortable in a pregnancy bra and nothing else.

“You didn’t need to rush,” you coo, feeling a little bad as you notice Tom’s halfway through shaving, half of his face covered in foam, the other bare and smooth.

He just shrugs, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your bump as he places the glass on the bedside table.

“You needed water,” he murmurs. Both of his hands go to your belly, his fingers warm and delicate as he slowly rubs your bump. “And this little one needs anything you want,” he adds. He scatters kisses over the top, glancing up at you with soft eyes. “Can’t have mum being thirsty, can we? I have to take good care of my girls.”

You coo, but the sound twists louder into a gasp as you feel something very odd fluttering in your stomach. After a brief moment of confusion, your eyes widen.

“Tom,” you say, looking at him with tears in your eyes.

“What? Are you okay?” He sounds worried as he looks between you and your bump quickly. You feel the fluttering again, and you realise it’s the baby kicking.

“Yes. Here.” You take his hands, moving them back to the side of your stomach where you’d felt the movement. “Say something again.”

“Uh? Something?”

You glare at him. “The baby started kicking when you spoke to her,” you explain, “keep talking. See if she’ll do it again.”

“Oh.” His eyes are wide, and his eyes go a little glassy as he gazes at your bump, shocked. “Um, hi, little bean,” he mumbles, leaning down so he’s closer. “I hear you’ve been busy kicking. Do you want to do that again for us-” Tom breaks off, and he gasps as you feel the movements again, hard and peculiar, but bringing you unrestrained levels of joy.

“That’s her,” you mumble, clasping your hands together as you watch Tom kiss your belly again. “I think she likes you.” Tom smiles at you, his lip holding a pout of adoration. You giggle, finding him adorable, but also finding amusement in the way he’s still got shaving foam covering his jaw. “Go finish shaving.”

He scowls before reluctantly nodding. “I’ll be one minute,” he promises. He hesitates before moving off, kissing your bump again before jogging back to the bathroom, a lightness to his step.

It takes him less than a minute to return, by which point you’ve turned off the bedroom light and snuggled down into bed. Tom slips in beside you, kissing you before sliding down your body and returning his attention to your bump. In the dark, you find yourself giggling as his light fingers pad over you, tickling softly as he pays attention to your baby, showering it in more kisses, and more gentle touches.

“I love you so much,” he coos. You reach down to rest a hand in his hair, slowly stroking through his curls as you close your eyes and lean back into the pillow. “Gonna love you so much, baby. Promise.”

You feel the kicks again, and whimper softly as Tom delights.

“Do you think she’s going to do this every time she hears your voice?” You mumble, already imagining the world of discomfort that’ll await you if your baby decides to kick up a fuss like this for the next four months.

Tom hums. “I hope so,” he murmurs. He keeps a hand cupping the lower part of your belly, where you can feel the kicks landing. “Does it hurt? Is this going to be annoying? Because I can always stop talking, if you don’t like it.”

You sigh contentedly, smiling into the darkness as you marvel at how soft your boyfriend has become since you fell pregnant. As much as the sensations confuse you, you know you’ll get used to them. You know you’d never deny him access to your child—not with his voice as soft as that, and his touch so gentle.

“It’s just a bit odd. I’ll get used to you,” you say. “Talk to her as much as you want.”

Tom hums. He kisses your bump again. “I love you,” he says to your stomach. He slips back up to rest beside you, kissing your lips as his hand drifts to your belly. “And I love you.”

“No, I’m okay.” You link your hand with his and squeeze him softly. “You should go back to your meeting. I’ll be fine here.”

He frowns, his eyebrows scrunching together. “If you need anything—anything—you call me. Okay?”

You bite back the smile that threatens to seize hold of your features, and nod. Tom’s been incredibly protective for the entire duration of your pregnancy, looking after you more than you’d ever expected him to. He’s always taken care of you, but it’s been upped—he’s uneasy whenever he doesn’t have an eye on you and doesn’t like being away from you for too long. He’s incredibly doting, and giving, and patient, and you love him so much it makes your heart hurt.

“Go,” you urge, knowing he’d happily blow off another meeting for you. “I just need to rest. Go do your job, mister.”

He kisses the back of your hand before begrudgingly stepping away.

“Fine,” he grumbles. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

For a while, you flick through the programmes on the large tv attached to the wall of your bedroom, only paying partial attention as you’re between sleep and consciousness. However, when a cooking show comes on screen, you find yourself waking up. You look at the screen, your eyes widening as they fall upon the delicious spread of food. Suddenly, you feel an incredibly strong, inconvenient craving come on.

You groan as you reach out, looking for your phone. You’re distracted by the tv as you write out some simple messages to Tom.

You: hey can someone get me one of those waffles from that market in camden pls You: a really big one with the strawberries and the syrup on You: please xxxx You: oh and cinnamon. thanks

Tom: give me ten minutes

You smile as you put your phone back on the mattress, stretching your arms out above your head as you sigh happily. Tom’s got men on the ground all across the city, so you don’t feel as bad as you did when you’d begged him to go out at 3am to bring you KFC. He’d done it, because he loves you, but you’d still felt guilty. It eases your heart to know he’ll probably just relay the message to someone else and then continue with his meeting, unbothered.

Instead, you find the bedroom door opening nine minutes later, and in strolls Tom, waffle in hand, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

“Here you go, my darling,” he announces. He passes you the plate and kisses your forehead before waltzing off to the side, his fingers going to his tie.

“Fuck,” you moan, taking the first bite of your food and feeling your tastebuds delight. “Thank you.” You look to Tom and frown as you see he’s stripping off. “Wait, what about your meeting?”

Tom quirks an eyebrow. “You need me,” he says, stating it as a fact.

You nod along, deciding not to tell him that you needed the waffle, not him, because now he’s walking towards you, shirtless and in a pair of grey sweats, and you realise...yeah. You’d quite like a cuddle.

“Definitely,” you agree. You finish eating and Tom takes the plate, putting it on the side. He offers you a glass of water, then waits for you to finish that too before approaching the bed. “Ah, fuck. I need to pee.”

Tom briefly rolls his eyes, well used to this by now. “You always need to pee,” he teases. He pulls back the duvet and offers you both hands, which you gratefully accept.

“Yeah, well, try carrying around a baby, and maybe then you’d understand.”

Tom kisses your temple before you walk away. You’re quick through the bathroom, and you find yourself yawning as you dry your hands on one of the soft cotton towels. When you walk back into the bedroom, you discover it considerably tidier than you’d left it. Tom’s apparently passed over it like some sort of cleaning fairy, and he’s moved away all the scattered clothes and dress pillows. He’s sitting in bed waiting for you, the big light switched off, and he’s apparently just as prepared as you to have a nap despite it only being late afternoon.

“You’re very cute,” you say as you get back into bed. You snuggle down and Tom curls into your side, throwing one of his legs over yours as he presses his face into your neck. His hand goes to your bump as he kisses up your neck, very softly.

“What d’you mean?” He mumbles, voice quiet and soft. His fingers draw light circles over your belly, and you hum contentedly. Already, you’re feeling sleepier, just from the darkness in the room and the warmth coming off Tom’s figure.

“So attentive,” you say. “So sweet. So...soft.”

Tom grumbles into your neck. “‘M not soft.”

“Yes, you are.” You snuggle further into the duvet and smile into the darkness. “Ditching your meetings for me, bringing me whatever I want, cuddling me all the time… You’re a big softie, Tom. It’s cute.”

“Hmph.” Tom rubs your stomach gently. “I just want to make sure that you’re okay. Happy mum, happy baby.” You roll your eyes as he repeats the buzz phrase which has characterised your pregnancy. Happy mum, happy baby has been his mantra. You aren’t complaining. It’s worked out quite well for you.

“Yeah, but when the baby’s here, you’ll be ditching me for her.”

“Never, darling, never.” Tom chuckles as he kisses your jaw. “You’ll just need to share the spotlight. Can you do that?”

You bring a hand up to play with his hair. “I think I’ll be able to figure something out,” you reply. You’re quiet for a few moments, your eyelids falling shut as you let yourself relax. You’re very content, with Tom’s soft curls against your neck and his soft breathing fanning out across your skin. You feel full of love. “‘M sleepy.”

“Go to sleep,” he whispers. Tom turns his head to kiss your shoulder. “I’m here.”

“Okay,” you mumble, yawning. One of your hands goes to rest on your stomach, and Tom repositions his palm so it’s resting on top of yours.

You gasp as you hold the positive test in your hands, eyes sparkling with unshed tears. Immediately you regret not waiting for Tom, but that’s swept away as you realise you now get to be the one to break the big news to him. As one of your hands drifts down to your stomach, your other wrangles your phone.

You: when are you coming back home? Tom: tomorrow. is everything okay? You: yes :)

––––––

“Love? I’m home!”

Tom’s loud voice drifts up to the bedroom as he hollers through the house, causing you to jump up from surprise. After quickly fixing your hair and trying to look less like you’d just been snuggled up in bed taking a nap, you walk out of the bedroom. Tom’s trudging up the stairs, and as he sees you walk onto the landing, his tired eyes light up.

“Tom,” you greet, smiling. He jumps up the final few steps before sweeping you into a tight hug, groaning softly.

“I missed you,” he says, his lips tickling your neck in kisses.

You sigh contentedly as you inhale his familiar cologne, your stomach churning with butterflies.

“Missed you too,” you tell him, clutching at his back. “I have something for you.”

Tom pulls back, his hands going to settle on your waist. “A present?” He asks, eyes lighting up with glee.

You chuckle as you nod. You reach out for his hand and gently tug him into your bedroom. “Yeah, a present. Sit there.” You push him onto the end of the bed, and Tom wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“A present… Because you missed me?” He asks, smirking already.

You roll your eyes. “Not that kind of present,” you tease. “Get your head out of the gutter.”

Tom gasps in mock outrage, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Alright, alright.” He crosses his arms. “What is it?”

“Patience. Close your eyes.” You watch as Tom follows instruction, and peer closer at him. “Keep them closed. Don’t make me blindfold you,” you threaten.

“What if I want you to blindfold me?”

You snort as you walk across the room, opening a drawer and picking up the positive test. After going back to stand in front of him, you suddenly feel a little nervous. You take a moment to look at Tom, admiring his luscious brown curls, and the sculpted lines of his handsome face. Your doubts and your fears soften the longer that you look at the man you love so much, and you know that you can do this, as long as it’s with him.

“Okay, so… I’m sort of nervous to give you this,” you say, rambling a little. “It’s something that you’ve wanted for a long time. That- that we’ve wanted for a long time. And, uh, well… Here you go.”

Without further ado, you give Tom the test. It sits in his hands.

“Can I look now?”

“Yeah.”

You watch as Tom hesitantly opens his eyes, his gaze flickering first to you, then to the test in his hands. He’s seen enough of them to recognise what it is, and you laugh nervously as his eyes bulge. Immediately, he brings it closer, eyes glinting as he reads the test, his jaw falling slack.

“Are you- is this real?” He asks. You nod your head, biting back a smile as you watch him process the news. “You’re...pregnant?”

“Yeah. We’re going to be parents, Tom.”

He releases a noise somewhere between a joyful groan and an exclamation, then shoots up from the bed. He hugs you tightly, lips peppering your cheeks in kisses as both of you laugh. His hands smooth over your face as he holds you tightly, his brown eyes wide with emotion as he whispers, “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“Love you too,” you say, feeling overwhelmed.

Tom’s hands shift down, going to rest on your belly.

“I can’t believe it,” he announces. You hear him swallow, and look at his face, noticing the presence of the tears that sparkle in them. “Can I…?”

“Go ahead.”

Tom drops to his knees in front of you, and he helps you roll up the front of your shirt. You let your hands rest in his hair as he kisses across the front of your stomach, his lips so soft and gentle. A few tears slip from his eyes as he sniffles, causing you to pout at the sight.

“Hello, little one,” he murmurs, speaking to your belly. There’s barely a bump there, but that doesn’t stop him. “It’s your dad.” His voice hitches, and you card your fingers through his hair. “Gonna love you so much, baby. So much.” Tom reaches back to grab one of your hands, squeezing your fingers tightly. “We both will.”

You feel yourself well up too, the sight of Tom with so much love for your unborn child warming your heart. He scatters a few more kisses to your belly before finally standing up again, one of his hands staying on your skin as he kisses your lips.

“Thank you,” he says, voice thick. His eyes are red and watery, and you cup his cheek soothingly.

“Thank you,” you reply. “It takes two.”

Tom hugs you again, his face going to rest in the crook of your neck. He runs his hand over your stomach, and you sigh into him.

“Love you,” he murmurs. “Love you so much... Love you both so much.”

You hold him closer.

Tom’s head snaps up, the daze clearing from his mind as his eyes shift over to you. You’re laying down in the hospital bed, resting with your head tilted towards your husband and your child. You look exhausted, but there’s a certain glow about you - your eyes are bright, your lips full with joy - and Tom swears, as he stares at you with your daughter in his arms, he’s never felt so whole.

“Yeah.” He can’t deny it - not to you. He also can’t do anything to stop the tears from rolling down his face, because he doesn’t want to risk doing anything that could wake up his daughter. “She’s perfect.”

It’s a good job he’s sitting so close to your bed because it means you’re able to reach out and brush his tears away. The salty tears soak into your fingertips, and you sigh softly as you look at him intently, taking in the swell of love to his gaze, and the large, silly grin that’s been fixed to his mouth all day. 

“She’s ours,” you say, still processing it yourself. You bring your hand back to the bed, yawning as you curl up in the blankets. You’ve felt nervous letting anyone other than yourself hold her, but one look at the way Tom's slowly letting his thumb pad over her cheek assures you that there’s no one better for the job. “She’s going to be a daddy’s girl, I think.” 

Tom looks up at you, his smile growing impossibly larger. “You think?” 

You hum. “Oh yeah. You’re going to spoil her rotten.”

“Well, yeah. Of course.” He’s looking back at her, his chin wobbling for a brief moment before he sucks in a deep, calming breath. “I love her.” His eyes dart back to you. “And I love you, more than I’d ever thought was possible. Thank you for bringing me our daughter.”

“And so I told Uncle Haz, no, you aren’t allowed to name my baby!” Tom mumbles, his soft words directed at your belly button. He’s pushed the bottom of your t-shirt up and over your hips, and you’re lazily flicking through a magazine as you let him have his sanctioned bump time. If you’re being honest, it doesn’t take long until your eyes are drifting away from the columns to focus on the sight of Tom, tired-eyed, curly-haired, cooing sweet sentiments at the rise of your stomach. His slender fingers cup the bump, and you watch through warm eyes as he moves in and scatters a bunch of kisses over the side.

“You’re so funny,” you murmur, fondness coating your words. You meet his eyes and laugh when you see his eyebrows comically shoot up his forehead.

“Why’d you say that?” He asks, still speaking in the hushed baby voice he’s spent the past three months nurturing. The soft pads of his fingertips trace around your bump as he watches you, love leaking from every feature on his face.

“Always talking to him like he can hear you,” you expand, grinning softly. “And being all soft and mushy with him. It’s like you melt whenever you’re around him.”

“Firstly, we don’t know that he’s a boy,” Tom says, rolling his eyes. “And secondly, I’m sure he can hear me. I swear he moves every time I mention Sam.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes. “Uncle Sam’s gonna be the favourite, huh?” Your eyes drift down to the bump, and your heart flutters as Tom leaves a large, smacking kiss to the top. His fingers go to find your top and he carefully begins to wrap you back up.

“Night, little buddy,” he coos. You can see the turmoil on his face as he begrudgingly finishes covering up your stomach.

“You’re really excited for this, aren’t you?” You comment as Tom pulls himself up the bed. He settles against the headboard with his arms crossed over his chest, a relaxed grin on his face.

“Of course I am,” he replies. You toss your magazine away and snuggle into his side, finding a comfortable home in his arms. “I can’t wait to bring this little guy into the world.”

You have to blink back a few sudden tears as the pulsing of your heart grows stronger. “He’s going to be so loved.”

Tom’s lips brush your forehead as he cradles you close. “You’ve shown me what love can feel like, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice soft. “I can’t wait to pass on that knowledge to our baby.”