Chapter 106

The next morning dawned with a soft haze over the city. Sunlight filtered through the tall penthouse windows, spreading golden streaks across the hardwood floor. Abigail was already awake, perched at the kitchen island with her laptop open, scrolling through class syllabi while absently sipping coffee. She was half-reading, half-daydreaming, her thoughts drifting to Emma and the baby every few minutes.

Soft footsteps padded behind her. Emma emerged from the bedroom, wrapped in one of Abigail’s hoodies that hung almost to her knees, her curls piled messily on top of her head. She looked warm and cozy, like she’d been stolen from a Sunday morning painting.

Abigail closed her laptop instantly. “Well, good morning, pretty girl,” she said, opening her arms.

Emma walked straight into the hug, yawning into Abigail’s chest. “Mmm. Morning. You know what I’ve been thinking about?”

Abigail kissed the top of her head. “That you love me and can’t resist me?”

Emma giggled and poked her chest. “Always true. But also… the nursery. We haven’t picked colors or furniture yet.”

That made Abigail sit up a little straighter, her eyes instantly sparking. “You’re right. We need to get moving on it. I want it to be perfect before they get here.” Her hand slid instinctively to Emma’s bump. “Neutral colors? Something cozy. Like… beige, sage green, maybe creamy whites?”

Emma tilted her head, eyebrows raised. “Look at you, designer mode activated.”

“I just want it to feel peaceful for them,” Abigail said softly, her thumb tracing small circles over Emma’s belly. “They deserve the best.”

Emma’s heart melted. She leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Then let’s go see what we can find today.”

Later that morning, the two of them strolled hand-in-hand through a home design store, the kind with staged little rooms that looked like magazine spreads. Sunlight streamed in from tall glass windows, catching on displays of rocking chairs, plush rugs, and tiny cribs. The air smelled faintly of new wood and lavender cleaning spray.

Emma paused at a display of soft sage curtains, running the fabric between her fingers. “This feels right. Calming, kind of timeless.”

Abigail brushed the fabric too, nodding. “Yeah. It matches you. Calm, soft, and perfect.”

Emma shot her a look, laughing. “Calm? Have you met me?”

Abigail grinned, leaning down to murmur against her ear. “Okay, maybe not calm. But perfect? Absolutely.” She pressed a quick kiss to Emma’s temple, earning a blush that Emma tried to hide by turning back to the curtains.

They wandered the aisles like kids in a candy store—Emma gravitating toward soft textiles and decorations, Abigail drawn to the practical furniture. She tested the sturdiness of a crib with her hand, frowning thoughtfully, then said, “This one. It feels solid. Safe.”

Emma giggled. “What are you, crib security?”

“Hey, if it’s holding our baby, I’m making sure it could survive a hurricane,” Abigail said, puffing her chest out dramatically.

For the next hour, they collected samples and swatches, piling sage fabrics, creamy rugs, and warm-toned wood accents into a little basket. Emma’s face was glowing, full of excitement and possibility—until suddenly, the glow shifted. She pressed a hand to her stomach, her expression tightening.

“Em?” Abigail’s heart skipped. She dropped the sample she was holding and rushed to her side. “What’s wrong?”

Emma swallowed, her face pale. “I think… I need a minute. I’m so nauseous. It hit me out of nowhere.”

Abigail’s stomach lurched with worry. She guided Emma quickly to a small bench tucked between displays, crouching down in front of her. “Hey, hey. Just breathe. I’ve got you. Do you want water?”

Emma nodded weakly, so Abigail was up and running, grabbing a chilled bottle from a cooler near the checkout. She unscrewed the cap in one motion and pressed it into Emma’s hands.

“Slow sips, baby,” Abigail urged, her palm rubbing gentle circles along Emma’s back. “Don’t rush it.”

Emma obeyed, drinking just enough to take the edge off, then leaned her head against the wall, eyes closed. Abigail brushed the damp curls from her forehead, her own chest aching with how vulnerable Emma looked.

“You don’t have to push yourself,” Abigail whispered firmly. “We can do this another day. None of this matters if you’re not okay.”

Emma cracked an eye open, meeting Abigail’s gaze. Her voice was small, but full of warmth. “You’re too good to me.”

Abigail kissed the back of her hand, lingering there. “Not possible.”

After a few minutes, color began to return to Emma’s cheeks. She shifted, pressing her forehead against Abigail’s with a tired smile. “I’m okay now. Just… maybe no more rug shopping today.”

Abigail let out a breathy chuckle of relief. “Done. Forget rugs. We’ll head home. I’ll make you tea and pull up the rest online. You don’t even have to leave the couch.”

Emma laughed softly, leaning into her. “You really are amazing, you know that?”

Abigail kissed her gently, cupping her cheek. “No. You and this little one? That’s amazing. I’m just here to take care of you.”

Together, they walked slowly back through the store, Abigail keeping one protective arm firmly around Emma’s waist. The sage curtain swatch and the crib model number were tucked safely under Abigail’s other arm like treasure.

The nursery wasn’t finished yet, but the dream of it was alive in both their hearts—painted in neutral tones, filled with the quiet excitement of what was to come, and wrapped in the fierce tenderness Abigail showed with every step Emma took.