Ignoring this, I drop my hands from her shoulders, taking her tits into my hands. ‘Because then, I’m gonna make you all dirty again.’
‘Sounds like a well-thought-out plan.’ By her now mewling reply, it also sounds like something she’s looking forward to. ‘Why don’t we go and lock ourselves in the bathroom for five minutes, and I can show you just how much I like the sound of that?’
‘I doubt it’d take five minutes.’ Two minutes tops, I’ll bet. ‘And you remember what happened last time you got on your knees?’ We’d almost needed a crane that time.
She turns swiftly—well, as swiftly as a heavily pregnant woman can—knocking several things from the counter as she turns, whacking me on the arm.
‘You are a beast!’ she exclaims. ‘Just call me fat, why don’t you?’
‘You’re not fat, darlin’, you’re growing my child.’ I place both hands on her swollen stomach, running the risk of another thump. But I can’t help myself. She’s a thing of fucking beauty—and I’m just in awe of her.
In. Fucking. Awe.
Now, if only I could get her to be my wife.
‘A very large child,’ she grumbles, her eyes glistening even as they narrow with her proclamation, but she doesn’t protest as I take her face in my hands.
‘I’m a very large man.’
‘That must be why I keep you around,’ she murmurs as I slant my lips over hers. I kiss her slowly, savouring the shape of her lips against mine. Kiss her thoroughly, kiss her until she moans softly into my mouth. And all the while we keep our eyes open, our gazes shining with love.
‘Ew, kissing,’ Louis complains as he skids back into the room.
I’m inclined to agree with Keir in that, kids have an uncanny knack for appearing where they shouldn’t. But as our kisses reduce to gentle presses of lips, Louis quickly changes the topic to that of his stomach. Or in other words, his breakfast.
Ella has to leave for an early seminar this morning, so I’m on breakfast duty. And school drop-off. As she slides her coat over her beautifully expanded frame, I stick a square of buttered toast between her teeth, urging her to bite. And when she’s buttoned up against the cold, I press a travel cup of hot tea in one hand and her packed lunch in the other.
‘You look after me so well.’
‘Always,’ is my response. It’ll be my response for now and forever.
Our baby might not exactly have been planned, but it is the happiest kind of surprise. True, we were maybe a little reckless our first few times—reckless in pursuit of our love. Wild in our pursuit of exploring the other. It’s maybe a more poetic way of saying we fucked like it was an Olympic sport. But by Christ, we did win gold.
Our child.
I can’t wait for June Bug to be born. I’m not sure if Ella is serious about her choice, but our bump has been named so since we found out we were having a girl. I’ll be father to a daughter as I’m father to a son. And soon, I hope to be husband to the loveliest woman in the world.
She might’ve been wearing my ring on her finger already if I’d had a grain of sense—if I’d asked her properly. And not as she’d stood in the doorway of the bathroom, pregnancy test in hand.
‘I’m not marrying you because I’m pregnant,’ she’d said, her brow creased in an unhappy frown. ‘This isn’t the nineteen fifties.’
‘I want to marry you because I love you,’ I’d answered. And I should’ve stopped there instead of adding, ‘And because I want to do the right thing.’
Let’s just say, that didn’t go down too well. And by the time I’d extracted my size thirteens from my mouth, the moment had passed. She refused to listen, and who would blame her after that particularly unsmooth romance fest? But seriously, I do want to do it right. I won’t ever get the time back I lost with Louis, and I’m determined to be involved every step of the way. From now and forever, and for all my children.
Aye, all of them. We might not be expecting twins, but I do want a houseful.
And speaking of doing it right, or doing it sneaky, I’ve roped Louis in for my next proposal. I mean, I’ve asked her since the whole bathroom debacle. And her answer? Ask me when I don’t look like an elephant. She doesn’t seem to see herself as I do. I’d marry her today, tomorrow—a year from now. I’d marry her in her fluffy pyjamas and on any day of her choosing! I’m just desperate for her to say yes. Desperate to hear her say she’ll be mine for now and always.
And that’s where Louis comes in. She can’t deny him anything, so guess who’s proposing next . . .