“If anything happens to me, I want you to m-move on,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to the curve of my neck. “I want you to be s-strong for our s-son.” “Joe, nothing’s going to happen to you.” I took a breath, hating every second of this morbid conversation. “And we don’t know if we’re having a boy.” “We are.” He reached a hand between us and cradled the swell of my stomach in his trembling hand. “You’re growing my son.”
