“Nat,” I say softly, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Wake up.”
She makes a grumbling sound and burrows deeper into the pillow.
“I made breakfast.”
Both eyes open now. She sits up slowly, her hair a mess. She’s wearing another one of my T-shirts, and the sight of her in my clothes makes me want to rip them off her. Honestly, at this point half her wardrobe is my shirts, and I don’t hate it.
She takes the plate I offer, and we eat together in her bed, the morning stretching out lazy and comfortable around us.
“So,” I say, setting my empty plate aside. “Tonight is the Hays & Cole New Year’s Eve party. I was wondering if you’d want to go with me.”
She pauses mid-bite, her fork hovering in the air. “To your office party?”
“Technically it’s your dad’s office party. But yeah.” I reach over, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I want to take you out. Ring in the new year together. It’s going to be a big year for us.”
She sets her fork down, her fingers playing with the edge of the blanket. “Jake?—”
“Plus, it’s just the firm. Most people there already know about the baby, or they won’t care. You don’t have to hide.”
She’s quiet, her eyes fixed on her plate. I can see the wheels turning, the hesitation written all over her face.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” I add gently. “No pressure.”
“Okay,” she says finally, her voice soft.
Relief floods throughme. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
The smile that breaks across my face is probably ridiculous, but I don’t care. I pull her closer, kissing her forehead.
Later that evening, I’m in Natalie’s living room, adjusting my tie and trying not to pace. She’s been in her bedroom for the past hour getting ready, and I’m equal parts excited and nervous.
This is our first real date. Our first time going out as…whatever we are. Maybe not quite a couple yet. But something.
“Okay,” she calls from the bedroom. “I’m ready.”
I turn around, and my breath catches.
She’s wearing a dress I’ve never seen before. Deep emerald green, velvet, with long sleeves and a neckline that shows just enough. It hugs her curves, accentuating every line—her shoulders, her breasts, the swell of her hips.
And her belly.
The dress doesn’t hide it. Doesn’t try to. It showcases it, the fabric draped perfectly over the curve where our daughter is growing.
She’s stunning.
“Is it too much?” she asks, a hint of uncertainty in her voice. “I wasn’t sure about the dress, but Blair said?—”
“You’re beautiful,” I interrupt. “Nat, you’re absolutely beautiful.”
A blush creeps up her neck. “Thank you.”
Her hair is down in soft waves, dark against the green of the dress. She’s wearing makeup—not a lot, just enough to make her eyes look even more dramatic. And she smells incredible.
But it’s the belly that I can’t stop looking at. The visible proof that she’s carrying our daughter. That in a few months, our entire world is going to change.
“You’re staring,” she says softly.
