“And over here?” She shimmies her delectable ass to the right, pointing past the brick fireplace to the hallway behind.
“Why don’t you go and see?”
With the squeal of a small child, she takes off at a jog and runs down the hall. As if I’d change my mind and demand she stay put.
I follow easily. Nothing much back here, just the laundry room and an extra bathroom. Oh, and the massive primary bedroom.
I find her there, jaw wide open, as she takes in the sitting area, the platform up to the bed, and then the bath. At least the closet doors are closed, or I’m sure she might have an aneurysm with the size of it. If I know one thing about my girl, she’s a sucker for a good-size closet.
“What size bed is that?”
“It’s a Wyoming king.” I move up behind her and wrap my arms around her as I place my chin on her shoulder.
“It’s bigger than a California.”
“Still smaller than an Alaskan.”
She turns in my arms. “They have bigger?”
I chuckle as I brush a piece of hair behind her ear. “Yup. But I think those sizes are usually reserved for those who share.”
“Oh.” Her hands come up to my chest and fiddle with the buttons there. “And do you share?”
“Yup.”
“You do?” Her eyes go wide, and then she rolls them and shakes her head as if she just got it. “I mean other than with you and the brothers.”
I shake my head. “I only share with you.” That gets a smile out of her. “And I don’t have brothers.”
“You’ve got the club.”
“Do I?”
I raise an eyebrow at her, and she smiles, but then looks down, then back up, and her eyes are wide.
“What happened? Where’s your vest?” She pushes out of my arms and paces. “Did Casper kick you out? Because of me? Because of us?” She points at herself, then me. “Oh, he better not. Get your keys, King Koopa. We’re about to whip some ass.” She starts marching for the door, and I can’t help but feel happiness burst from the inside out.
“Hold up. No need to go all Donkey Kong on someone who had nothing to do with it.”
“What? Casper wasn’t the one? Does he know? Because only the president can kick you out. God, was it my father?” The blood drains from her face, and I pull her in for a quick hug and a kiss before she passes out.
“No, Peaches, nothing like that.”
“Then what was it?”
“I’m out.”
She’s it for me. And she needs to feel like someone put her first. Her and our kid. I don’t care what the damn blood test says. I know what I know. That’s my kid inside her. It might not share my DNA, but it will be mine.
“What did you do?” She takes a step back, horror on her face.
“I chose.” I say it simply, because it is.
“You chose? You chose what?”
“You.” I nod and gesture to her.
“Me.”
