ETHAN'S POV
The morning sun filtered softly through the linen curtains, scattering pale gold light across the hardwood floors of our bedroom.
I had woken long before Ava stirred, lying there quietly with one arm beneath my head, the other resting gently against her swollen belly.
Her breathing was deep and even, her lashes still against her cheek, lips slightly parted in sleep.
There were moments like this, rare, sacred, where the chaos of the world, the demands of business and legacy and headlines, all seemed to blur into insignificance.
All that mattered was her. And the child we were waiting for.
I shifted slightly so as not to wake her, slipping out of bed and pulling on a shirt.
I walked barefoot through the hallway to the kitchen, where the scent of coffee already lingered faintly.
Mrs. Rosalind was up, of course. The woman never slept past five.
