“Shit! It didn’t come out right, but yeah.”
“Are you asking me to marry you just because I’m pregnant?”
“Why would you think that?”
“Maybe because you proposed ten seconds after I told you?”
“I want to marry you because I love you. I’ve wanted this for some time, but I didn’t admit it to myself. Seeing you walk away at the hospital was a wake-up call.”
“Because it scared you?”
A grin flickers on his lips. “No, because you have a sexy ass. I realized I couldn’t go without it, and I had to marry you.”
“Wow,” I whisper, squirming in his lap for good measure. “My ass must be more impressive than I gave it credit for.”
“You haven’t given me an answer.”
As I’m about to open my mouth, a sob forms in my throat, so I pinch my lips tightly together, shaking my head slightly.
“You won’t marry me?” he asks, stricken.
“Yes,” I say, after swallowing the sob.
“A shake of your head means yes? I’m learning something new about you all the time. But I’m looking forward to it.”
I lace my fingers on the back of his neck, shifting even closer to him. Eric drops his hands to my hips, gripping them firmly.
“You deserve the best, and I’m going to remind you of that every day,” he murmurs.
“How are you going to do that?”
“I’ll surprise you with little things and big things.”
“Well, whatever things entail, throw a foot massage and ice cream in there.”
Eric
lets out a low and throaty laugh. “Demanding, aren’t we?”
“I’m pregnant. That’s going to be synonymous with entitlement to be spoiled for the next nine months.” I’m already excited about all the possibilities.
“It’ll be my pleasure to spoil you, future wife. I can’t wait for this little one to be out.” Eric glances down at my belly longingly. “The best thing about babies? They love being hugged. I’ll appreciate this more the second time around. I didn’t know the cut-off age for being hugged in public is twelve.”
“I love hugs,” I say coyly.
“I know.” He kisses the tip of my nose, then my jaw, prompting delicious shivers to run through my body. “Don’t worry. You’ll receive plenty too.”
“Tell me more about babies,” I encourage.
“They’re small, pink, and smell like sugar.”
“Eric Callahan, you’ve been holding out on me. You can’t wait to be a dad again.”
“Yeah. But I need to sharpen some of my skills. They probably got rusty.”
“What skills?” I ask, confused.
“You know… Finding the perfect rhythm to swing my arms for the baby to fall asleep, and—”