A hurried breath pushes past my lips, shoulders slumping in relief. It sucks that she isn’t feeling good, but at least she isn’t going into early labor or experiencing some other kind of medical emergency. At this point, something like that would probably have me retiring early, since I’m already trying to find a way to sneak her to practice with me every day.
Leaning in, I kiss her temple. The smell of her shampoo floods my senses, making my heart thump a steady beat inside my rib cage. I’m a man obsessed—so in love that even her scent sends me into outer space.
“I’m sorry you’re not feeling well,” I murmur, my expression softening. “For what it’s worth, you’re still the most beautiful girl in the whole world.” She drops her chin, and a pale pink blush creeps along her freckled cheeks. I love how she reacts to my praise. It makes me want to spend every waking hour whispering affirmations in her ear and reminding her how special and loved she is.
“Let me hold her for a second,” I say, sliding in so that her back is pressed to my front. She rolls her eyes, a sassy objection hanging on the tip of her tongue, as usual. But as soon as I flatten my palms on the underside of her belly, lifting the baby’s weight, my beautiful Finley sighs contentedly. I drop sweet kisses to her neck, enjoying the quiet hums that vibrate against my chest as her head falls back.
“Oh my God, that feels incredible,” she moans. “It’s like I can finally take a comfortable breath. And my back…immediate relief.” Her gaze finds mine in the mirror, lashes fluttering. “Can you please stay here forever?”
I chuckle. “Don’t fucking tempt me, Mama. I already hate leaving you, even if it’s just for a few hours. I worry the whole time.”
“There’s nothing to worry about. The kids and I are safe and sound right here at home.” I know she’s joking around, talking about Boner and the baby, but that doesn’t stop my imagination from running off, visions of our future causing my stomach to flip excitedly. It’s as clear as day, Finley rushing to meet me at the door after a road trip, our children following closely behind as loud giggles bounce off the walls and ceiling. There’s a toddler with a gummy grin on her hip, and her belly is swollen with another. Boner runs around them in circles, his happy tail wagging like he knows what a perfect life he lives.
Of course, I’d be happy with only one if Fin decides that she doesn’t want to expand our family any further. She’s already giving me my dream of being a dad, and someday soon, a husband. As long as I have this, I’ll die a very happy man, but I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t want a whole football team of Calloways.
“Okay, gorgeous. Where’s your nail polish?” I say, carefully removing my hands from her body. I really do wish I could hold my baby girl forever, but I only have a couple of hours before my workout, so I should probably get moving.
“Never mind,” she shrugs, scrunching her nose. “I had a mini freak-out because technically, I could go into labor really soon, and I didn’t want my daughter’s firstimpression of me to be that I have gross feet. But I doubt I could even reach them right now with my belly in the way. It was a silly idea.”
I shake my head. “It’s not silly at all. Finally meeting her is a big deal. If it would make you feel better to have your toenails painted, then do it. I’ll help you.”
“You?” she replies, lifting a brow. “Theo, no. You get like, five minutes of downtime every day. Why don’t you relax for a bit? Letmetake care ofyoufor once. Plus, painting toenails is an art form. You can’t just wing it.” The corner of her mouth twitches, and I drop my jaw in mock disgust.
“First of all,” I blurt, feigning offense, “you take care of me every day. Just last night, you deep-throated me like a champ. That’sverycaring. And secondly”—I raise my chin—“I’ll have you know that I was a professional nail polisher guy in another life, and I bet I couldwow youwith my skills.”
She presses her lips together, swallowing a laugh. “Aprofessional nail polisher guy? I’m very impressed. By all means, then—it’s on the top shelf.” Tossing a thumb over her shoulder, she points toward several small bottles in various shades of pink. I swipe one, showing her my best game face as I hold it up between us.
“Prepare to have your mind blown, Mama. I’m about to make you eat those words.”
She stares me down, running her tongue over her front teeth. It’s an attempt to stay in character, but I know she’s stifling a smile. “You better not fuck up, Mr. Nail Polisher Guy. If this baby judges me, I’m leaving you a bad review.”
I’m the first one to break, barking out a laugh as I poke my finger into her side playfully. She attempts to dodge me, her unrestrained giggle like music to my ears. I love the way we banter and joke, always finding a way to have fun, even in the most mundane moments. Finley Bolton is more than just my girl. She’s my best friend. My sunshine in the darkness.My everything.
“Come on, beautiful,” I say, lifting my chin toward the door. “Let’s go down to the couch so you can put your feet in my lap.”
We exit the room, making our way down the stairs hand-in-hand. I notice how winded she is from the short trek, trying my best not to overreact. Her doctor told her to expect more fatigue as she gets closer to her due date, and all her numbers are right where they should be. What she’s going through is completely normal, but I still hate it. I can’t wait until the baby arrives so she can get the rest she needs while I shoulder as much of the caretaking as she’ll allow.
Twenty minutes later, I’m putting the finishing touches on my masterpiece. Her toenails are the perfect shade—one that I chose because it matches the nursery walls—and I have to say that I’m pretty proud of how good they look. So what if I was bluffing about having experience with this sort of thing? I did it a few times during Tatum’s stint of hospital stays when she was in high school. She had been fighting a nasty infection for months, and the smallest tasks would cause her incredible pain. We did what we could to bring normalcy to her days, so when she asked for a full pedicure, there was no way I was going to say no.I’m pretty thankful for all the videos I watched back then on how to do it right, because now, Finley won’t have to stress about the way she looks when the baby arrives.
“I told you I was a pro,” I boast, a cocky grin splitting my face. She rolls her eyes playfully, attempting to pull her feet from my lap, but I keep them where they are with my wrists wrapped around her ankles. “No moving yet. They aren’t dry, and I don’t want you to ruin my artwork.”
“Okay, fine,” she sighs, relaxing back into the cushions. She looks down, wiggling her toes. “I have to give credit where it’s due. You did a pretty good job. Unfortunately for you, I see a lot more of this in your future, and a lot less trips to the salon in mine. I hope you don’t mind being paid in sexual favors.” Her sexy little wink has my cock thickening beneath my sweatpants, and I have to remind myself that there’s no time to take her upstairs and worship her the way I want to.
“That can certainly be arranged,” I reply, leisurely massaging her calves as I change the subject to something less horny, or I’ll never be able to leave when the time comes. “So, have you thought of a name yet? She’s going to be here soon, plus I’m running out of fruits and vegetables to call her.”
She laughs, pushing a strand of auburn-red hair behind her ear. “I’ve seen a few that I liked, but none of them have really stuck out in my head except for one. I kind of”—her stare lowers to her hands as they twist together anxiously—“wanted to see what you thought of it before I made a final decision.”
Overcome with emotion, I sniffle in an attempt to alleviate the stinging behind my nose.
Fuck.
“Me? Why?”
She lifts her head, her bottom lip trembling just the slightest bit. “You know why.” It’s choked, but she may as well be screaming with the way it has me all jumbled up inside.
I haven’t wanted to push my luck up until this point, because it would kill me if we weren’t on the same page about what this is. But the way she’s looking at me as she asks for my input on one of the most important choices she’ll make for this child—I don’t think I can go another second without knowing for sure.
“I want to hear you say it, Finley.” My voice falters and shakes, the words barely a pleading whisper by the time they break through the space between us. Our gazes collide, and I swear the only thing I hear is the pounding of my heart as I await her answer.
