Every year for their anniversary, Riley produced the best gifts for Maddie, but this year she was determined to upstage his gift-giving passion. Two days ago the prefect idea revealed itself, but now, as she waited for Riley to get home, Maddie twirled the ribbon and doubted herself. The front door opened, and a rush of cold air swept in.

“Happy anniversary,” Riley said, handing her a bouquet.

She inhaled their floral scent and handed him the small box. Watched as he pulled the ribbon off, pulled out the small white onesie, and read it.

“We’re having a baby?”

“Yes.” 

I snagged the romance genre again. I’m not sure if this fits in with the whole meet cute that one expects to see in romance, but I figured the story was at least romantic. 

Can I tell you a little secret, Lovely Reader? I’m notorious for forgetting our anniversary. It’s true, all those stories and movies where the husband forgets and the wife is annoyed confuse me. I don’t think my husband has never gotten annoyed that I’ve forgotten, but I’m usually reminded the day before or so when he mentions wanting to go to the store. 

Often somewhat dazed and confused from spending hours talking with imaginary characters, I stupidly ask why. When I’m reminded that it’s our anniversary, the internal shock hits me every time. As if I didn’t have an entire year to think and prepare. Someday I might have to write a story that reverses the ol’ husband forgot trope, but for today I leave you with Riley and Maddie.