Connor still caught himself staring at his wedding band sometimes, twisting it absentmindedly with his thumb like he needed to be sure it was real. Even months later, the simple gold ring felt like the most incredible miracle—a quiet, shining promise that he got to call her his wife.

Their wedding had been perfect in its own sweet, simple way. A warm afternoon ceremony out on his parents’ property, surrounded by friends and family, with her glowing brighter than any sun he’d ever seen. He’d never forget the way she smiled at him as she walked down that aisle, or the way his hands shook just trying to slip the ring on her finger. That day settled something deep inside him—like the final piece of a lifelong puzzle had clicked exactly where it belonged.

And then, as if life wasn’t already more beautiful than he could ever have deserved, came the news that they were expecting.

He still remembered her teary laugh when she showed him the test. The way his own breath had caught, the world tilting just slightly before he pulled her into his arms, hugging her so tight he was almost scared he’d break her. From that moment on, everything changed. Every decision, every thought, circled around her and the tiny life growing inside her.

It was a calm afternoon at the station, sunlight spilling through the blinds in soft stripes across desks cluttered with papers and half-empty coffee mugs. The lull made most officers lazy—some played cards in the back room, others swapped stories by the break table—but not her.

At four months pregnant—fifteen weeks today, to be exact—she’d hit that stage where her energy seemed to surge back, and Connor noticed it. Maybe too much.

From where he sat finishing a report, Connor’s eyes kept drifting to her across the bullpen. She was standing by a cluttered table, shoulder to shoulder with Officer Martinez, flipping through missing person files, brows drawn in that determined little furrow he loved almost as much as he hated.

He sighed, set his pen down, and rose, running a hand over the back of his neck. It was automatic now—the urge to hover. He couldn’t stop it even if he tried.

Connor walked over and rested a hand gently on the small of her back, his thumb brushing a slow circle there before dropping lower, just above where her bump had started to show. “Darlin’,” he murmured, voice pitched low so only she could hear. “I thought we talked about you takin’ it easy.”

Martinez raised an eyebrow, smirked, and took that as his cue to back off, muttering something about getting more files.

Connor didn’t miss a beat. His hand slid protectively around her waist. “You’ve been on your feet for nearly an hour, and that’s after runnin’ around all morning. How ‘bout you sit that pretty little self down before I haul you into my office and lock you in there with your feet up?”

His lips twitched in a soft smile, but there was no mistaking the edge of worry in his eyes. He leaned a bit closer, lowering his head until their foreheads almost touched. “And since when are we stressin’ over cases that aren’t even ours, huh? Baby, your job right now is keepin’ my kid cookin’ safe and sound—let the rest of us handle missing persons for the day.”

He gave her hip a gentle squeeze, clearly not above using a little playful pressure to get his way. Then his voice dropped even softer, that special tender hush only she ever heard. “Come on, sweetheart. Please. For me.”