His head tilts back and his eyes meet mine. “Love you, babe.”
“Love you too.” I bend my head down and kiss him just as the door opens and the doctor walks in.
“How are you guys today?” Denise, our doctor, asks.
Kenton stands to greet her with a hug, and Denise smiles and hugshim back with a pat to his cheek. Denise is about seventy years old and should probably retire, but she told me the first time I met her that she will probably be working until the day she dies. She’s the same doctor who delivered Kenton and would be delivering our baby if everything goes as planned.
I go back to the table and hop on top, lying back before answering, “We’re really good.” I smile at her, running my hand over my stomach.
“Well, you look really good, and all the work-ups we did look perfect. I just need to check you over to make sure everything looks okay, and then we can see what you’re having.”
“Sounds good,” I say.
She smiles at me and then Kenton before proceeding with the internal exam. Then she lets me put my pants back on before having me lie back on the bed again. She tucks a paper towel under the edges of my leggings and lifts my shirt farther up, exposing the rest of my stomach before squirting lubricant there.
Kenton comes to stand next to me, wrapping his hand around mine. The loud sound of a heartbeat pulses through the room, and I watch the dark screen next to my head, trying to make out our baby. When I see the figure emerge through the black, tears start to fill my eyes as they always do when I see our child.
“Look at how big he is already,” Denise says, and my eyes go to her before my head tilts back so I can see Kenton’s face.
“We’re having a boy?” I ask when I don’t see Kenton react at all. I wonder if he even caught on to what she just said.
“You are.” I hear the smile in her voice as Kenton’s head tilts down and he looks at me.
“Well, Daddy, what do you have to say about that?” I ask him.
“Thank you.” He bends, kissing my mouth. Before he pulls his lips away, he whispers, “I want a girl too. You’re right. I have enough room for a lot more.”
I nod and lift my head slightly, pressing a kiss to his lips as I feel tears slide down my cheeks. I’m looking forward to sharing that with him.
*
Three years, one month, six days, twenty-two hours, six minutes, and two secondslater.
“Honey, you needto put her down,” I tell Kenton as I walk into the living room.
He’s sitting on the couch, wearing a pair of sweats and nothing else. The football game’s on the TV, the sound low in the background as our sleeping daughter lies in his arms and our son sits at his side, his head laying against his chest with his eyes closed. Half the time, I wonder if he pretends to be asleep just so he can spy on us. He knows far too much for a three-year-old.
“She just knocked out,” he says softly, looking down at her before looking at me again.
I roll my eyes and shake my head, knowing that he’s lying. If he’s home, the kids are on him. I love seeing him with them, but when he’s not home and I have our kids, when I’m alone and they both want to be held all the time, it makes it hard to get stuff done around the house.
“Your mom’s on her way over with Viv. They want to look at the backyard and measure to see if they can fit a play set back there.”
“She doesn’t give up, does she?” he gripes, looking down at Annabelle again.
I know exactly what he’s thinking. The minute his mom walks in the door, the kids are no longer ours. They are all Grandma’s, and he hates it.
“You have something in common.” I smirk.
“Well, seems like she will be useful while she’s here after all,” he mumbles.
“What does that mean?” I ask, my eyes narrowing as I watch a smirk form on his lips.
“You’re gonna find something to do with that smart mouth of yours while Mom takes care of the kids for us for a little while.”
I feel a tingle begin and am all of a sudden very anxious for Nancy toshow up.
“Strip. Then get on your knees, babe,” Kenton grunts, backing me into our bathroom.
