42
JAMES
Maura’s cheeks are flushed a bright pink, making her caramel brown eyes appear even brighter. She sweeps her paintbrush across the canvas in broad strokes. She still moves with grace, despite her swelling pregnant belly.
I lean against the door frame, watching her.
“Stop that,” Maura says cheerfully, not bothering to turn around and look at me. “It can't be that interesting, watching me paint.”
“It's a thousand times more interesting than that mountain of paperwork we just finished,” I grumble.
Maura flashes a smile over her shoulder. “Is Jack still here?” she asks.
We both spent the past three hours with the man, signing all the updated legal paperwork we’ll need before the baby is born. Wills, trusts, guardianship forms—if anything happens to me and Maura, Nate and Cat will be in charge of taking care of our child—and, most importantly, clauses limiting Victor’s access to the baby.
“Jack just left,” I tell her.
“I think he's going down to see Ryan.”
“Really? Did they make up? Did he say anything?”
“No, but I spotted a horrific neon green sweatshirt in his briefcase.” Maura shudders dramatically. “If he's buying Ryan Archer merch, there’s got to be a reunion on the horizon.”
“Ryan won’t make it easy on him. He's still pretty angry about Jack cutting off him and Pippa.”
Maura hums with agreement. “Well, if Jacks feels anything close to how I feel about our baby, he’ll stop at nothing to get his son back.”
“I hope you’re right.” I stride forward and bury my head in my wife’s hair, inhaling her scent. “How areyoufeeling?”
“I'm a little afraid to say it out loud,” she murmurs. “It's just scary to hope before I know if it's real.”
Before our meeting with Jack Archer, Maura and I went to meet her new doctor. Dr. Markovic finally decided to retire, referring us to Dr. Edwards, a cardiologist in her 40s. Our appointment this morning was just supposed to be introductory, a chance for Maura to get to know her and update her on the particulars of her case.
Instead, Dr. Edwards was a revelation. She gave us information on a new trial treatment for Maura's condition, one which showed promising results in its first round. Maura won't be able to start treatment until after the baby is born, but Dr. Edwards is cautiously optimistic, and so am I.
For the first time since Greece, the future doesn't feel like it's running on a ticking clock. There are no promises, but there's possibility, and that’s good enough for me.
Maura turns in my arms and smiles up at me. Grainy green paint smears over her cheekbone. I wipe it away with my thumb.
“You can hope a little now, if you want,” I whisper. “You won’t jinx it. I promise.”
She lets out a long breath. “In that case, I feel great.Reallygreat. Also…what do you think of a color like this for the nursery?”
She gestures behind us. The canvas is painted a soft green, lighter than the other paints she mixed with the stone.
“We can use whatever color you want.” I chuckle. “The baby won’t complain.”
“Good.” Her eyes flit up to mine. “Because what I really want is you.”
My hands tighten around her waist. “I’m yours.”
I dip my head and capture her mouth with mine. She moans as our lips meet, a small sound that makes my blood race. I walk her backward, pressing her against the wall. Maura’s pregnant body is beyond gorgeous, expanding the curves and softness of her small frame. Her hands tug at my jacket and tie, trying to strip them off to get access to me. Then, Maura pulls away with a gasp.
“Your suit,” she says. “I’m getting paint on it! God, I’m sorry, it’s all over my hands.”
I grab her paint-covered hand and bring it to my hard cock, so she’s rubbing me through my trousers. “Does it feel like I give a fuck?”
She drags her lower lip through her teeth. “No.”
