Beyond the Broken Angel

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

— in an instant —

May 10th, 1940

EVERY WORRIED, PANICKED thought that was in Giselle's brain died when she turned around and laid eyes on Will, like the image of him being so close to her had cast a blanket over the fire in her mind.

"Will," Giselle breathed out, looking him over.

He was wearing a dusky blue Royal Air Force uniform, something that she would've found attractive if the sight hadn't scared her so much. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his hair seemed to be shorter on the sides than normal, but his intense, forest green eyes still pulled her in like they had all those years ago when they were younger.

Will was quick to get rid of any distance between them, striding towards her. He knelt on the ground before her, putting his arms around her and bringing her to him.

But then he stopped, staring down at the offending object that prevented them from being flush against each other.

She watched as he calculated the large bump beneath her breasts, an odd mixture of awe, shock, and fear tugging at his sharp features, contorting them into a look that confused Giselle.

He pulled away suddenly, standing up. "Oh no," he breathed out. "This can't be." He looked horrified, which made Giselle's heart sink.

She threw her hands over her face, trying to keep herself from crying. She was sick of crying.

Will gently grasped her hands, pulling them away as he knelt down in front of her again. "Don't cry, love," he said softly to her, freeing her hands to wrap his arms around her. "Please don't cry."

"You're not happy," Giselle cried. "You're not happy that I'm pregnant!"

"Darling, stop. Stop crying, please," he pleaded, cupping her cheeks. "I am happy, but I am also quite terrified—and shocked. Very, very shocked."

Giselle pulled back. "Me too," she told him. "I'm really scared, Will."

Will nodded, closing his eyes and taking a breath. When he opened them, he was staring down at the baby bump, his eyes widening when he saw movement there.

"It's a boy," Giselle told him, reaching for his hand. He let her take it, and she pressed his palm to her stomach. "I'm due May twenty-forth."

Will's eyes met hers. "'Twenty-forth?'" he echoed. "My God, that's so soon." He looked back down to the bump, rubbing his thumb back and forth over it. "A boy." A small smile pulled the corner of his lips upward, some of his fear fading away. "We're going to have a baby boy."

Giselle felt herself smile as well, and leaned into the warm emotion blossoming in her chest.

"Yes, we are," Giselle agreed.

"Have you selected a name?"

"I, well, I do have a name, but we can change it if you don't like it," Giselle said sheepishly.

"Tell me, darling. I'm sure I'll love it," Will encouraged, smiling up at her.

"I wanted to name him after you," Giselle informed. "So his first name would be William, but I would like to call him Liam." She didn't say anything more, not wanting to go to the dark place in her mind that had suggested the name, the place that told her . . . Will might not live to see his son, maybe I should name our son after him, so that he has something of his father's.