"You are with child?" he whispered, the words filled with a profound and wondrous awe. The world seemed to stop, the quiet of the study broken only by the frantic, hopeful hammering of his own heart.
Delia, still cradled in his lap, looked up at him, her own eyes shining with a mixture of nervousness and joy. She gave a small, certain nod.
That single movement was all it took. The dam of his composure broke, and a wave of pure, unrestrained happiness washed over him. An incredulous, breathless laugh escaped his lips. He lowered his head and began to pepper her face with kisses—her forehead, her cheeks, her eyelids, the tip of her nose. They weren't kisses of passion, but of worship, of gratitude, of a joy so immense it couldn't be contained in words.
"Eric!" Delia said, giggling as she squirmed in his lap, her laughter like music to his ears.
