~ DAVID (months later) ~
It was after midnight, but I was still wide awake when I heard the hushed slide of the passageway door in the study adjoining our bedroom.
I watched Zara's face, measured her for any sign that she might wake. She lay on her side, curled around her belly that, at seven months pregnant, was now so large she groaned even getting out of a chair. But she was fierce and frightening if anyone so much as implied that the baby was anything but a blessing. Even now, in her sleep, her arms folded around the precious bundle growing in her womb.
The urge to kiss her, to gather her in was so strong, it made me ache. But I had a job to do—as a father, and as a husband, and so, carefully, wincing every time Zara so much as twitched, I slowly eased out from under the blankets and to the floor. Then, hurriedly, silently wrapped myself in my robe and slipped out of the room and into the private study.
