“Taryn! That was almost five hours ago! We need to go now. Do you need to go now? Tell me if it’s time to go now.” Ryan started to panic. He was already lurching out of his seat.

“Calm down,” I breathed between waves, grabbing a hold of his tuxedo jacket sleeve to pull him back into his seat. “We’re okay. But I suggest we don’t linger.”

As soon as I spoke, another blast of excru-ciating pain shot through my abdomen. I held my breath and scrunched my eyes together. They were coming on faster and harder.

“Taryn, if we need to go, we go. I’m not going to get this anyway. It’s not worth putting you two at risk.”

“You don’t know that.” I hated that he was being so pessimistic. He was brilliant.

“We can go if you need to go,” he said, already sounding defeated. “It’s all right.”

“No,” I stated adamantly, gritting my teeth. “We’re not going anywhere until we hear your name called and they open that envelope. This is your moment. A once-in-a-lifetime moment. I can stick it out.” I breathed through my pursed lips. “But I think it’s safe to say that the little tiger and I are not going to make it to any after-parties tonight,” I said, trying to add some levity to the situation.

“Honey,” he started to argue.

“Stop. There is no way in hell we are going to miss this,” I whispered. “We have time.” I had to lie—he was freaking out enough for the both of us.

I grabbed his hand. We would go through this together, just like we’d done everything else . . . united as a team.

The enormous curtain dropped over the stage after the lifetime achievement award presentation ended.

“The camera is going to pan to us when they announce the names,” he leaned over and whispered in my ear, inconspicuously wiping the bead of sweat trickling down my neck. “Just so you know.”

“I know. The camera has panned to us before. I can see when the red light goes on. I’ll be wearing this same smile, I promise.” My smile was permanently glued in place. “But it will be bigger.”

“Are you sure you want to wait?”

“Yes, just shut up already.” I grinned at him. “I wouldn’t miss this moment for anything in the world. Well, you know what I mean.”

His shiny leather shoe slid across the floor and tapped gently into my low heels.

The music started.

“Please welcome two-time Best Lead Actor Academy Award winners Daniel Day-Lewis, Tom Hanks, Sean Penn, Jack Nich-olson, and Dustin Hoffman.”

Ryan squeezed my hand and I could see he was holding his breath, too. He took my elbow in his hand and helped me stand up to applaud the actors walking out onto the stage. The five amazing and talented men each announced one of the five actors who were nominated for this year’s Best Lead Actor award.

I smiled so proudly as Ryan’s name was announced. Jack then joked that he was willing to share the sex symbol status if he had to. We all laughed when he said that if you didn’t know who Ryan Christensen was, just ask any female between the ages of six and ninety-six and they would surely tell you all about him.

Ryan, of course, rubbed his forehead while smiling.

I was so proud of him—it made enduring the pain worth it.

No matter what happened with his career from this moment forward, Ryan was now—officially—an Academy Award nominee.

He squeezed my hand tightly, holding our hands to his lips. We both stared off at the floor while each second seemed to last minutes.

“And the Oscar goes to . . .” I held my breath while the excitement and contractions rippled through me.

Ryan was holding my hand so tightly my fingers were starting to tingle from lack of circulation.

“Ryan Christensen— Isletin.” I think I screamed.

Everyone stood up to applaud—everyone.

Famous directors, famous celebrities, famous musicians—the entire audience rose to applaud for him.

Ryan looked like he’d been punched in the gut. He leaned over and kissed me. I couldn’t stop smiling; I was giggling with excitement.

He kissed me again, rubbing his hand over my stomach before heading toward the steps to the stage. Tears of happiness slipped from the corner of my eyes.

You could see in his priceless expression that he was shocked to have won. I hoped this overwhelming moment wouldn’t render him speechless. He was visibly shaken; at least, visibly to me. His mouth hung open in disbelief and his hand nervously rubbed his forehead as he climbed the steps.

I stood and clapped for him, enduring each painful contraction bravely as my body readied itself to give birth to our child.