I hold back the tears welling in my eyes and nod.
Sutton quickly changes the subject. “When is your next doctor's visit?”
“Next week.”
“Are you going to find out the sex? Oh wait, that’s not until twenty weeks, right?”
“Yeah, twenty weeks is what the doctor said. Part of me wants to know everything. Part of me wants one surprise in my life that isn’t terrifying.”
She laughs quietly. “I completely understand. Either way, you’re not doing this alone.”
I nod, my throat tight. “Brooks signed the NDA. He gave up his rights.”
Sutton’s eyes flash with fierce approval. “Good. I’m glad Armadillo Legal could help. That man doesn’t deserve access to you or that baby.”
I stare down at Witley, at the miracle of her breathing. “Matt asked me to move in with him.”
“And?”
“And I’m scared,” I whisper. “But I also don’t want to be anywhere else.”
She reaches over and squeezes my knee. “That’s what love feels like when it’s real.”
By the time I leave, something in me has settled.
Me: What time will you be home from practice?
Matt: Seven. Are you making deviled eggs?
Me: If you’re lucky.
At 6:58, I pull into his parking lot, slinging two suitcases from the backseat. I press his number on the pad, and he rings me up.
He opens the door just as one piece of my luggage, the one with the stubborn wheel, gets stuck coming out of the elevator.
“There’s more in the car,” I say.
He freezes. “Are you?—”
“I’m moving in.”
He laughs and lifts me right off the ground in those strong, tattooed arms. “You have no idea how happy you’re making me right now.”
“Oh, I know. Something in your pants is poking me,” I cackle as he swings me around.
He presses his groin against me as much as he can. “You want me to poke you?”
“No. Well, maybe.”
He puts me down, carrying my luggage inside, and says, “I’ll go get the rest. You… make yourself at home.”
Home.
“Okay.”
When he returns from my car, he looks like a homeless person—my fluffy beanbag on his head, three tote bags thrown over his arms while carrying two baskets of toiletries and pictures.
I pull out my phone and snap a picture before he can protest. “Thank you!” I say, jumping up to peck his lips.
