He’d always been there for me, right by my side through everything. When my grandmother had died, he’d known exactly where to find me and never left me alone that night. He had been my date to my cousin’s wedding, even though he absolutely hated dressing up. He had even shown up at my house to take me to the Senior Prom, leaving his original date to find a last-minute suitor, after my boyfriend at the time had stood me up. Every snapshot of my life from the time I was thirteen had him in it – and I never wanted that to change. He was my whole world, the only reason I really existed any more. Which is why keeping this secret from him was killing me.

I sighed, running a fingertip along the rim of my glass. It had been a long day; work had seemed to drag on, and I’d been on edge since I woke up. To make matters worse, it was the seventh anniversary since my grandmother’s dead, and the pain was still excruciating. I took a sip of my tea and glanced at the clock. How it could be seven at night and feel like it was past midnight was a mystery to me. My eyes landed on a thick, leather-bound book nestled between Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night and a collection of Emily Dickinson’s poems on the tall bookshelf across the living room from me. Once the album was in my hands, I flipped open to the first page, a smile immediately covering my face. It was one of the first photos after he and I had met each other, and our faces clearly showed our displeasure at being near each other.

Our parents had been friends back in their high school days, and when they realised they were now neighbours, they commenced to force him and me together. Every weekend, we would go to the beach, and the adults would sit back in their chairs and watch as we practically ignored one another. It got to the point eventually, where we accidentally began having a conversation, and, to our immense surprise, we found that the other really wasn’t as bad as we’d originally thought. It wasn't until later that school year, when I had been embarrassed beyond belief by a guy I had a crush on, that I really turned to him for comfort. Thus, our friendship was cemented. We became inseparable.

The images in the photo album showed me just how much our bond had grown over time. There wasn't a time when he wasn't with me, even when he had his own friends and a band on which to concentrate. In fact, he just managed to somehow squeeze me into his group, which hadn't been difficult at all, though I think that had a lot to do with his threatening the guys if they messed with me in any way, they'd lose an essential part to the band. However, the warning hadn't been necessary - the guys were too easy to love despite their craziness, and I knew they loved me as well. It had felt so amazing to be accepted by them, and my parents were continuously thrilled by the amount of time he and I spent by each other's sides. I grinned when I saw my absolute favourite picture, and my mind travelled back to the day it had been taken.

I had been beyond nervous and pacing through the back room, hair still not done and makeup half-applied. My best friends had been begging me to calm down, trying to coax me back into sitting in the chair and allowing them to finish the preparations. It had taken the arrival of one of his best friends to get me to focus on what needed to be completed in less than thirty minutes. Jimmy had placed his hand on my shoulder gently, smiling softly.

"He's just as anxious, you know. I thought he was going to throw up from nerves."

"You didn't give him any alcohol, did you? I don't want him drunk for this. I'd have to kill you."

Jimmy had just laughed out loud. "No, no alcohol. You look so beautiful. He's going to love it."

"I hope so. I'm only doing this for him."

With that, he had taken his leave, and the immediate lack of his calming presence caused my stomach to clench and my heart to pound in my chest. I took a few steadying breaths. A groan escaped me when I realised I wasn't going to calm down completely any time soon. Eventually, Naomi stepped back from me and grinned.

"Perfect."

And indeed, I was. She had somehow transformed me from a normal young woman of average beauty into a piece of gorgeous art. I gave her a watery smile before rising to my feet.

"Are we ready?"

"I...I think so."

That day had been the best day of my entire existence. It was the day we'd been legally bound together for the rest of our lives, although I knew our attachment had set in long before we said our vows. I traced the image of his face in the photograph and felt my heart swell in pride and complete love. He was the love of my life; there was no way in Hell I'd ever be able to deny that. I couldn't believe it had been four years since we were married - it felt so much shorter. Though we fought on occasion, we always managed to settle them and whatever problem we had with each other. It was a strange thing - to go from strangers, to somewhat-friends, to best friends, to lovers, to partners until the day we died. I'd never expected it to feel like this. I hadn't had any inclination growing up that love could be such a double-edged sword: It made our bond stronger, our passion more fiery, but, at the same time, made our anger and disappointment that much more overpowering and heart-breaking. I knew I had gotten lucky, for whatever reason. I'd found my soul mate early in life, before I even really considered dating anyone, let alone him, though I hadn't known at the time just how important he was going to be to my life. He was essential to my well-being, and it never ceased to terrify me. Not because I was worried about him hurting me or letting me down or breaking my heart, but because no one had ever warned me about someone having so much control over my thoughts, my heart, without them even knowing it.

The doorbell rang, jarring me from my reminiscing, and I set the photo album down onto the table. Curiosity twined itself into my brain; who would be visiting so late at night? After he left, people normally just called instead of stopping by. My friends knew exactly how I felt about being in the house with other people who weren't him. It didn't feel right to stay home without him, with our friends around. I glanced through the peephole but could barely make out the face of the visitor. I gripped my cell phone tighter in my hand; a moment's hesitation, then I cracked open the door.

"What do you want?"

"I wanted to see my beautiful wife."

"Oh, my god! It's you! Don't scare me like that. Why didn't you just come in?"

He returned my ecstatic embrace with a laugh. "Because I left my key in one of my bags, like a moron, and didn't feel like digging for it."

He followed me into the living room, dropped his luggage, and pulled me close for a loving kiss. It had been almost eight months since I'd seen him last, but I still remembered his taste, the feel of his chest beneath my hands, the rough tenderness he exhibited with his hands as he angled my mouth beneath his, allowing for him to deepen the lip-lock. Slowly, regretfully, I pulled away from him.

"Uh-oh. I know that look in your eye. What's going on?"

"Nothing, babe. Um, can you sit please?"

"Sure. What's wrong?"

"I promise, nothing is wrong."

"Then what the Hell are you not telling me?"

"Well...I've had a helluva time keeping this from you."

"When did we start keeping secrets?" he muttered darkly, irritably.

"It was better said to your face, rather than over the phone or text."

"What is it? Are you leaving me?"

"What? God, no! I could never do that. And before you ask, no, I'm not cheating on you, either."

"Oh."

"But this is something that's going to change the rest of our lives."

"Oh?"

"Yea." I took a deep breath and stared into his beautiful eyes, unsure about how he would react. "Zack...I'm pregnant."