taking in every square foot. A nice, spacious area. Windows with striking scenery beyond the glass panes. Wood floors. Walls trimmed with smooth, waist-high river rock. All in all, elegantly rustic.
It occurred to me that the best way to tackle this enormous undertaking was to go at it from the stance of wedding planner. I could take a million ideas from a bride and pull together one specific theme to make it all gel once I saw the photos and concepts staring me in the face.
I grabbed my laptop, went into the great room, flipped the switch that brought to life a roaring fire in the tall hearth, and settled on one of the sofas scattered about.
A color scheme was the first order of business. That entailed envisioning what our child might look like, who he might become. I pictured Dane, of course. Our son would be strapping, powerful, gorgeousâjust like his father. Girls would fall at his feet.
I frowned. Thatâd be quite the challenge for me. Iâd always teased Dane about his possessiveness. Suddenly I realized Iâd feel the same about the baby. Because he was ours.
All I could fathom was providing him with the best of everything, all the opportunities in the world. And showering him with love.
I groaned. I might smother rather than shower . Iâd have to work on that. Strike a balance.
It was a strange conundrum. For me, Iâd only had the love of one parent. Had, admittedlyâand not at all via fault on my fatherâs sideâsuffered from that. Iâd grown up closed off, standoffish, a loner.
Dane had grown up with no parents. But heâd had a devoted aunt and the never-faltering Amano. Not to mention the Heidi Klum look-alike Mikaela Madsen.
Kyle had experienced as close to a perfect family unit as I could comprehend, though heâd confessed his dad preferred being a road-warrior salesman to a traditional home-at-six-oâclock-for-dinner husband/father.
I longed for a happy medium based on all the realities of lifeâand the fact that I still wanted a career. And once the criminal convictions came in, Dane would be on to his next big project. Whatever that might be.
Now was the time for me to seriously contemplate how to shape our future with a child being a prominent part of itâdeveloping his own skill set, interests, passions. Feeling free to be his own person, not having to follow directly in his fatherâs footsteps. Or, again, be smothered by a mother who adored him to pieces.
I already felt so attached, so addicted, to the baby growing inside me. How could I not be a crazed lunatic when I gave birth to him?
Youâll have to chill. Let him breathe, Ari. Let him breathe.
I did just that currently. Big inhale, slow exhale.
Dane joined me on the sofa. I hadnât even realized Ethan had left us, being so engrossed in my mental debate.
âEverything okay?â Dane asked as he rested his hand on my thigh.
I cozied up to him. âJust fine. I was reminding myself not to suffocate our son with motherly love.â
Dane grinned. âI doubt heâll mind.â
âI donât want to be fearful of all the things he might want to do, either. Itâd be cool if he rowed and boxed like you. Golfed like my dad. Played football like Kyle. Or is that too much? I want him to be well-rounded. Completely amazing. Oh! And Amano could teach him martial arts.â
I stared at my husband, who raised a brow.
âIâm too weird, arenât I?â I asked. âTotally mommy-psycho.â
Dane wrapped his arm around me and held on fiercely. âBaby, I get it. Nothing weird about you. I want our son to have it all, too. Be all he wants to be, you know?â Dane paused a moment, then added, âWe are going to name him eventually?â
âHave you been talking to Kyle?â
âYeah. Sure.â
Okay, the two of them discussing the baby would be the absolute last topic on the table.
I said, âWe just might have to