Fat Cat Liar

“No.”

“Lawson, give me some space.”

“Not until you answer me.” He twirls his fingers in the underside of my hair.

“That wasn’t a question, it was a trick.”

A smug grin spreads on his lips, and he has the gall to chuckle. “It almost worked.”

I start to slap him, hoping he’ll release his grip. No such luck. All the beauty of the last few minutes disappears, and my flight instincts kick in. I flail, twisting, bucking, and writhing to get a hold on the edge of my mattress and use it as leverage.

“Stop fighting me.” The amusement in his voice spurs me further.

“Let me go.”

In a flash, his body covers mine, almost knocking the breath out of me until he braces his weight on his other hand. I stop fighting, having no choice.

“First of all, I’m never letting you go.” He bends in and kisses the tip of my nose. “Secondly, I’ll take that as a no.”

“You’re an asshole playing with my emotions like that. How can you ask me that when we’re not even technically back together?”

His face grows serious, and the shade of his eyes takes on a darker hue. “We’re back together.”

I start to argue then clamp my lips shut, narrowing my eyes in frustration.

“Don’t move. If you try to scramble away, I’ll be forced to haul you back, which may result in waking up the house.”

My already tense body stiffens further, and I contemplate the consequences. He takes my silence as my answer, kissing my forehead this time, sliding his hand from my head, and twisting his body to grab something from the side of the bed.

When he turns back, he lays a small gift beside us. “Up you go,” he says, rolling us and, in a smooth movement, knifing up to lean his back against my headboard and position me in his lap. “Open it.”

“I’m not opening it. You’re lucky I’m not blowing the roof off right now, which is purely out of respect for our families. No gift is going to make up for the games you’re playing this morning.”

His hands cup my face, and his expression takes on a tenderness that makes my stomach flip. “Baby, trust me and let me do this my way. Open it.”

I hold his gaze but pick up the present and put it between us. Never losing his eyes, I rip the paper, open the box, and slide my hand inside. My fingers skim along the soft fabric, and curiosity gets the best of me.

I break the stare and peek down.

My heart stops, and I can’t hold back the soft sob that escapes. My hand flies to my mouth, and my vision blurs as the tears return.

Inside the box is a grey onesie with the NYU emblem.

“I ordered an identical one with MIT on the front,” he tells me quietly.

I can’t form words over the knot clogging my throat.

“It would mean the world to me if we could carry on Mom’s tradition on Christmas mornings. If it’s a girl, I’ll wake her up, smother her with kisses until she squeals. If it’s a boy, will you do the same?”

I lift the outfit and hold it to my chest, nodding so hard the tears pour down my face. “Of course,” I splutter.

His eyes glow, and I melt, falling into him. “How did you know?”

He runs his hands up and down my back and places his lips close to my ear. “I’ve known for a little while.”

“I was going to tell you.”

“And I was going to let you do it on your own time, but after the scene with Enrique the other day, I couldn’t let you wonder any longer what my reaction would be. This is the absolute best gift you could ever give me. Well, that and accepting my proposal.”