Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
I nodded, tears fresh, laughter messy in the middle of it. “Ours.”
He pressed his mouth to my temple, then to the corner of my eye, then to my cheekbone, like he was giving the news to every part of my face. He rested his forehead against mine and closed his eyes. When he spoke again, his voice had changed. Softer. Lower. It had a new kind of gravity.
“Okay,” he murmured. “Listen to me. We do this how you need it, but I’m thinking. Doctor first. Then Elaina. Then your mom. I’ll make calls for the rest. The club will handle what the world tries to throw at us. We’ll make this place ready. I’ll add on that room you said would be nice ‘someday’ because someday has moved up. I’ll set cameras and motion lights and a gate on the road that only opens for family. I’ll repaint the porch because it bugs me, and I’ll build a crib that’ll hold until a kid is three and thinks safety is a suggestion. I’ll do all of it twice.”
His hand still rested over my belly, warm and earnest.
I covered it with my own. “You don’t have to fix the world.”
“I know.” He cracked a smile. “Only our corner.” He sobered. “I missed things with Elaina. Not because I wanted to. Because the life was messy and I was young and dumb. I used service as a way out and then I thought wearing the patch would be enough to satisfy everyone. I’m a man whose gonna do better. I’m gonna be there.”
“You are there,” I explained, and watched the way that landed. He took the compliment the way a man like him takes any soft thing—awkward at the edges, grateful at the center.
“What do you want?” he genuinely asked. “Right now. With the ring and the baby both on the table.”
“I want your name,” I said, surprising myself with how easy that was. The word name used to sit like a hand around my throat. It didn’t anymore. “I want it because it’s yours and because it’ll match the baby’s. I want it so when I sign things at the doctor’s office and they ask who to call, they call a part of you that became a part of me. I want it because this is where I belong. In your arms forever.”
He kissed me, long and wet. When he let me breathe, his smile had sharpened. “You’re still my old lady,” he said. “Don’t think the ring cancels anything.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
He pulled the test back into his hand, studied it like it was a mission brief. “How far?”
“Five weeks? Maybe six? I’m going to the clinic tomorrow to be sure. I wanted to tell you first.”
“Good,” he said. “I’d throw hands with a nurse if they got to know before me.”
“I’ll warn them you can be a tad over the top protective.” I teased him with a smile.
He cradled the small plastic proof again, swallowed, and I watched the shift happen—the way a man becomes attached to his child.
“What about names?” he asked, voice rough. “Too soon?”
“Maybe a little,” I said, smiling. “But we can dream.”
“If it’s a girl…”
“Don’t say it if it hurts.”
He took his time. “I want to honor without chaining her to ghosts.”
I nodded feeling the emotions build inside me. “Same.”
He paused. “Middle name,” he said finally, quiet. “Not calling her by it. Just carrying it. Lyric fits anywhere.”
“It does.” My throat burned, the good kind this time. “And if it’s a boy…”
“Middle name again,” he said. “Braxton wouldn’t want his full flag on a kid. He hated his name. Said it was formal and he was anything but fancy. But Tino’s a solid middle name. Or just T. We’ll know when we know.”
“We will.”
He glanced at my hand again, at the ring that had already warmed to the heat of me. He took my fingers and brought the band to his mouth, kissing that small circle like a sealing. “Tomorrow we tell the club. Expect noise.”
“I like their noise.”
“You also like their food. It’s how they win you over.”
“They didn’t have to win me. I came here because a woman I loved told me it was safe.” I thumbed his jaw. “She was right.”
His eyes closed on a slow breath. When he opened them, he was present in the way he only was when something mattered beyond words. “You’re gonna be protected like it’s a religion,” he said. “I’ll handle telling my brothers. You handle telling my daughter before she hears it from Pinky and throws a shoe at my head for making her last to know.”
“Deal.” I laughed. “We can FaceTime her tonight.”
He considered the time. “Make it morning. She’s with friends. Let her have the night.”
“You’re a good dad,” I complimented him truthfully.
He rolled his eyes like he didn’t want the compliment but tucked it away like a spare key.