“Fuck, we’re busy enough as is,” I said and it was true.
The Autism Centre took up a shit-ton of my girl’s time. Not so much she couldn’t find the odd afternoon to come hang out with her man, suckin’ on a cherry lollipop while she watched me work on a bike, but enough that I didn’t see her for precious hours every day. The club was fuckin’ thrivin’ now that King was prospectin’ and lendin’ his business expertise to our operations. We’d expanded our product to fuckin’ China just last month.
I had enough money so I was thinkin’ of handin’ over more of that side of things to King when the time came ’cause what I didn’t have enough of was time.
I’d never have enough fuckin’ time with Lou.
“I think you’ll like this kind of busy,” Lou said, smilin’ like a fuckin’ loon.
“Fuckin’ tell me already, little girl. What are you playin’ at?”
Her little hand reached out to thread through mine and press to her belly. “When the baby comes, if he’s a boy, I want to name him Walker after Mute.”
I blinked.
Lou was pregnant.
It wasn’t like we were tryin’. She didn’t like goin’ on the pill after the cancer and the contraceptive shot she’d been takin’ lapsed more often than any two people tryin’ not to have a baby woulda liked.
But I’d never thought of it, not in real life, not in anything but my deepest fuckin’ fantasies.
“You’ve got my kid in you?”
She pressed our hands tighter to her womb. “I got your kid in me,” she confirmed.
“Well then, let’s hope it’s a fuckin’ boy,” I said with a grin as I hauled my girl into my arms nearly up over my head so I could kiss the slim belly holdin’ my future kin.
She tipped her long hair back and laughed into the sky and I looked up to watch her thinkin’ for the millionth fuckin’ time that somehow I’d been blessed with a fuckin’ angel.