“That doesn't mean?—”
“It means I'm yours and you're mine. It means when someone asks who you are, I'm going to say ‘that's my girl.’ It means I'm all in, no matter what that pregnancy test says.” His thumb brushes across my lips. “So yeah, I'm your boyfriend. And maybe a whole lot more than that.”
Just like that, I have a boyfriend.
And maybe a baby daddy too.
Most of our moments are stolen ones, but occasionally I manage to spend the night at Luke’s place. The cabin on his parent’s land he’s fixing up is cozy and airy all at once, with big windows and high ceilings. I love it.
I love waking up in the morning in the same bed, surrounded by his soft cotton sheets and his strong, firm body pressed against mine.
One morning, I’m tracing the divots of muscle along his arms while he watches me, and I lift my gaze to his.
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” I ask him. “With waiting and seeing? Because there are no go-backs if this is real. Not for me.”
He takes my hands and kisses the back of it. “Having it happen so soon might have been a happy accident. But I was already hoping that someday you'd be the mother of my child. Even before I kissed you, if you want to know the whole truth.”
I stare at him, searching his face for any sign he's joking. But his eyes are completely serious, vulnerable in a way I've never seen before. “You were?”
“Madison.” He’s looking at me softly, like he's waiting for me to catch up to something that's right in front of my face.
He cups my face in both hands now, his palms warm against my skin as he looks into my eyes.
When he speaks, his voice is steady and sure.
“I love you. I'm crazy in love with you.”
The breath goes out of my lungs in a rush. The world tilts on its axis.
It's the first time I've ever heard those words. The first time anyone has ever said them to me and meant them.
“You are?” is all I can squeak out.
“I am.” He tenderly strokes his thumb across my cheekbone, catching a tear I didn't realize had fallen. “And consideringthe circumstances, Ireallyhope you feel the same way about me. But even if you’re not pregnant…”
He smiles ruefully. “Well, I’m still hopelessly in love with you.”
Something breaks open in my chest—something that's been locked up tight for so long I forgot it was even there.
I throw my arms around him, pulling him down against me. I'm crying and laughing at the same time, the emotions overwhelming me in the best possible way. “Of course I love you! How could I not be in love with you?”
He holds me tight, his face buried in my neck, and I can feel him smiling against my skin.
“You're kind and smart and strong and hot as hell,” I babble through my tears, the words tumbling out faster than I can stop them. “And someday I'll be annoyed with you for never picking up your socks, but I'm pretty sure that's the worst thing I'll ever be able to say about you, because you're the best man I've ever met.”
He pulls back just enough to look at me, and the expression on his face—joy and relief and love, so much love—makes me cry harder.
“Which pretty much makes me the luckiest girl in the universe,” I finish.
“Say it again.”
“That I’m the luckiest girl in the universe?”
“That you love me.” His voice drops to something almost shy. “I want to hear it again.”
My heart swells so big I think it might burst. I frame his face in my hands, making sure he's looking right at me when I say it.
“I love you, Luke Brennan. I'm completely, stupidly, head-over-heels in love with you.”
