“I know. I just…” I place my hand gently on her stomach, feeling the firm curve through the velvet. “You’re growing our baby. You’re the mother of my child. And you’re so goddamn beautiful it actually hurts to look at you sometimes.”
Her eyes are shining now. “Jake.”
“I mean it.”
She rises on her toes and kisses me, soft and sweet, and I have to force myself not to suggest we skip the party entirely.
“We should go,” she murmurs against my lips. “Before I change my mind about this dress.”
“The dress is perfect. You’re perfect.”
She laughs, grabbing her clutch from the couch. “You’re biased.”
“Completely.”
The party is at a hotel ballroom in downtown LA, all twinkle lights and champagne flutes and people dressed to impress. The party is legendary. Ryan goes all out, and everyone from the firm shows up.
When we walk in together, I rest my hand on the small of Natalie’s back, and I don’t miss the way several people’s eyes track to her belly before quickly looking away.
We find a table and I get her sparkling cider while I grab a beer. The DJ is playing something upbeat, and couples are already on the dance floor.
“Want to dance?” I ask.
“I do.”
Ilead her onto the floor just as the song hits its peak. We move together, her laughing as I spin her carefully, and for a few minutes it’s just fun. Light. Easy.
Then the song ends, and the DJ’s voice comes over the speakers. “All right everyone, let’s slow it down a bit.”
The opening notes of something slower, more romantic, fill the room. Couples around us shift, pulling each other closer.
I offer Natalie my hand. “One more?”
She smiles and takes my hand. I pull her in close, one hand settling on her waist, the other cradling her hand against my chest. She fits perfectly against me, her free hand resting on my shoulder. We sway together, barely moving, and I’m hyper-aware of every point of contact. The warmth of her palm through my shirt. The curve of her waist under my hand. The way her belly presses gently against my stomach, a constant reminder of what we’re building together.
Her fingers trace small circles on my shoulder, absent and intimate, and it sends heat straight through me. I tighten my hold on her waist, pulling her closer, and she doesn’t resist. Her head tilts up, her eyes meeting mine, and there’s something vulnerable in her expression that makes my chest ache.
“This is nice,” she says.
Her hand slides from my shoulder to my chest, her palm resting over my heart. I wonder if she can feel how hard it’s beating.
“Jake,” she says quietly, and there’s something in her voice that makes me hold my breath.
“Yeah?”
She opens her mouth, then closes it. Whatever she wasgoing to say, she’s not ready. I press a kiss to her forehead instead. Her eyes close for a second, and when she opens them again, they’re bright.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “For being patient with me.”
“Always,” I say, and I mean it.
We keep swaying, our bodies moving together like we’ve done this a thousand times. Her fingers trace the buttons of my shirt, a gentle, unconscious gesture that’s driving me insane. I slide my hand lower on her back, right above the curve of her hip, and she shivers.
“Cold?” I murmur.
“No.” Her voice is barely audible. “Definitely not cold.”
The heat in her eyes when she looks up at me nearly undoes me. I want to kiss her. Want to take her home and show her exactly what she does to me. Want to tell her I’m in love with her and I can’t keep pretending this is casual.
