"You're pregnant," he repeats my words.
"Yes."
"Like… You're baby pregnant?"
I giggle. I think I broke my husband. "Is there any other definition of being pregnant?"
Gael pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes briefly. I must've shocked him with the bomb I just dropped on him while he was half asleep. He props himself up on one elbow, facing me. Then he throws the cover off us, exposing our naked bodies. His eyes immediately land on my belly. "You're pregnant."
I can't stop smiling. "Eight weeks."
"Holy shit!" He reaches down and puts a hand on my tummy as if he's trying to feel something in there. His chest heaves up and down, unable to say anything else for a while. "H-How?"
"How…I got pregnant? I mean… I'm pretty sure you helped," I joke because it's not often that you get Gael tongue-tied.
