My hand slides down to rest on the gentle curve of her belly, feeling that possessive, protective instinct flare up again. The pregnancy sex has been off the charts, and I’m not about to complain.
“See that window on the second floor?” I point, my lips brushing her ear. “I thought that could be your office for when you’re working from home. Perfect view of the garden.”
Her hand covers mine on her stomach, entwining our fingers.
“And up there, that’s the master bedroom. The one with the balcony.” I let my voice drop, low and suggestive. “I’ve got plans for that balcony, sweetheart. Plans that’ll make the neighbors blush.”
She giggles and shivers, pressing back against me, and I have to bite back a groan. Even now, with my anxiety-ridden surprise in the works, she can reduce me to a man possessed with a few well-placed movements.
“And that room down below,” I continue, trying to focus, “I thought that could be the nursery. For when our little one is ready for their own space.”
“It sounds perfect, Liam. Everything about this place is perfect.”
“I’m glad you like it,” I say, my heart pounding like I’m about to close the biggest deal of my life. And I guess I am. “But there’s something else that would make it truly perfect.”
I step back, fumbling in my pocket as she turns to face me, confusion etched on her beautiful face.
I drop to one knee, popping open the velvet box I’ve been carrying around for weeks.
“Gemma.”
Her hands fly to her mouth, her eyes going wide. “What are you . . . are you seriously . . . ?”
“Gemma Jones,” I start, my voice rougher than I’d like. “You make me a better man. These days, I’m not sure I could survive without you. I want you to become Gemma McLaren. I want us to tie the knot and pop out a whole bunch of little rugrats to keep this one company. I want to grow old and wrinkly with you.” I crack a smile, needing to lighten the moment before I completely lose my cool. “So, what do you say? Want to make an honest man out of me?”
“Yes,” she cries. “Yes!”
She launches herself at me, and I catch her, rising to my feet. She’s laughing and crying at the same time, clinging to me like she’s never letting go. And I hope she never does.
I kiss her, deep and thorough, pouring every ounce of love and devotion I feel for this incredible woman into it. She kisses me back just as fiercely, her hands fisting in my hair, her body arching into mine.
When we finally come up for air, I slide the ring onto her finger. It looks right there, like it was always meant to be.
“Welcome home, sweetheart,” I murmur, pulling her close again.
Gemma
Roughly five months later
It’s so good to be home, and out of the hospital.
Home with my beautiful, not-yet-named baby boy. I can tell he’s already got Liam’s stubborn streak—he glowered at me when the milk didn’t come fast enough earlier. Like father, like son: impatient and brooding.
Liam guides me through the hallway and into the lounge, one hand protectively on my back, the other carrying Baby Boy in his carrier cot. I’m knackered, and let’s not even talk about what’s going on down there. My vagina feels like it’s been through a brutal war. I don’t think I’ll ever sneeze without fear again.
But my heart? It’s so full of love it feels like it might burst.
Liam gently sets Baby Boy down on the sofa in his cot, and my heart does this little stutter. He’s so careful, like he’s holding the most precious thing in the world. As he unwraps the blanket, his fingers brush against our son’s tiny hands, and I catch the softest smile on his lips—one that’s reserved only for these quiet, intimate moments.
“Welcome home!” Lizzie bursts in from the kitchen, arms outstretched for a hug. I return it gingerly, as I’m still feeling a bit tender. She’s been catsitting Winnie for me. “Oh my god,” she whisper-shouts, as she catches sight of my little bundle. “He’s gorgeous.”
“This is Baby Boy,” I say, beaming with pride as my beautiful little lad looks up at us and promptly blows a bubble. Alreadycharming the pants off everyone, just like his dad. “Think he looks like Liam?”
Lizzie leans in closer to get a good look at him. “He’s got the same nose,” she says, and I can’t help but grin.
Liam chuckles. “Not sure that’s a compliment to my son.”
My son.Every time I hear those words, I melt.
