“Gabriella,” I shout, my stomach grumbling as I wonder where the hell she went. Our apartment isn’t big enough for me to legitimately lose her–and it’s been almost an hour since I told her I’d put an order in at The Corner Deli for us and she still hasn’t told me what she wants.

I get up from my spot at the kitchen table–a spot that has seen much more work than it has food–and wind through the living room. Sun streams in through the windows, casting our neutral furniture in a warm glow. I’m surprised she’s not curled up under a blanket and basking in the sunny spot like a cat.

“Gabs?” I ask, heading for the master bedroom. 

When I peek inside and see it empty, I briefly wonder if she ran out to the studio for something. I was pretty focused on my website this afternoon, so I guess it’s possible I missed her telling me she was running out.

But that’s unlike me.

I pause as I turn away from the bedroom, hearing a sniff from somewhere inside. She must be in the bathroom.

“Gabi,” I say, crossing the room quickly and knocking on the door. “I’m going to order food. What do you want? That pad thai bowl thing you like?”

The door creaks open, and a second later she appears in front of me, hair pulled back in a ponytail and drowning in one of her Yogi’s Choice sweatshirts. Her expression is flat, her face devoid of her normally rosy cheeks. She looks up at me with wide eyes, her throat working as she swallows.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. This is not a normal Gabi face. This is a scared Gabi face. An anxious Gabi face. One I knew well when we first started dating but one that comes only so often now, on the rare occasion she gets overwhelmed.

She licks her lips and presses them together, her mouth opening and closing as she twists the engagement ring on her finger. She stares at it, and my heart drops. We’ve been engaged almost a year now, the wedding two months away.

Don’t tell me she’s getting cold feet now.

“Gabi?”

She shakes her head, and a tear slips from the corner of her eye.

I take her hands in mine, and I’m relieved when she doesn’t back away from me.

“Tell me what’s going on.”

She opens her mouth, but all that comes out is a sharp breath that sounds dangerously like she’s choking back a sob.

What the hell happened in her brain over the past hour that she’s suddenly losing it like this? I glance over her shoulder into the bathroom as if searching for any clue as to what’s happening that she can’t manage to vocalize.

And my eyes land on what looks like a pregnancy test on the counter.

The breath whooshes out of my chest when I realize this isn’t a case of cold feet.

I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. This, I can deal with.

“Gabi,” I say, and her eyebrows crinkle together. “You’re pregnant?”

She rears back. “How did you—?”

I give her a look. “The test is on the counter.”

She glances behind her and shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I was—well, actually I was thinking too hard but I’m still not sure what to think. I’m confused. I don’t know how this happened.”

“Well, Gabi, I think it’s time we tell you about the birds and the bees.”

Her nostrils flare. “You know what I mean. We’re careful.”

I shrug. “Accidents happen. I’m more concerned with how you feel about it than how it happened.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know,” I repeat.

She shakes her head, her eyes on mine.

“I’m not going to fill in the blank and tell you how to feel about it.”

She lets out a long breath through her nose. “You’re no help.”

I roll my eyes at her. “Gabi, you know what I want. But if you’re not ready, you’re not ready. I get that it’s weird timing.”

The familiar refrain of our relationship. Things happening when they happen rather than when we want them to.

But we roll with it. Dare I say, we embrace it now.

She takes a deep breath. “I think I might be ready for this.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

The edges of her lips tip into a smile. “If you are?”

“Oh, I’m ready,” I say, taking the opportunity to wrap my arms around her and hoist her into the air. She laughs, and I spin her quickly–gently–before turning and plopping her down onto the bed.

I sit down next to her, pulling her into a tight hug, and she curls up in my lap, her head resting on my shoulder.

When I look down at her, it hits me just how much life has changed in the past few years. I used to think love wasn’t something I wanted, but I just hadn’t found my person yet. She used to think love was nothing more than meeting someone good enough at the right time.

And now here we are.

We’re doing things a little out of order, but we’re doing things the way that works for us. For each other.

My fiancee is pregnant. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.