She laughs and walks straight to me, resting her arm on my shoulder for a side embrace as she stares at the socks. “No, concerned should be that I went the extra step on silly gifts.”
Giving the socks a once-over, I chuckle. “Hot dad.” It’s the pattern of words on the socks.
“I couldn’t help myself. It was that or the tie. But I figured you could wear these with your suit and nobody would know.”
I side-eye her. “That’s a well-thought plan.”
She interlaces her hands together. “I know. I’m such a smart cookie, except on the birth control front,” she gushes.
“Let’s test that.” I pat her behind and stand, giving her a light little shove in the direction of her bedroom, and I trail behind. “How is the packing going? I can help with the heavy things.”
“Swell.” She doesn’t sound enthusiastic.
I instantly touch her arm to force her eyes in my direction. “You’re okay with this, right? I mean the moving-in part. You don’t sound thrilled, and if it’s too much then just say so.”
Gracie shakes her head once and rolls her lips in, with her eyes having a hint of concern. “It’s not that at all. I’m completely okay with moving in.” The sincerity is strong. “It’s just…”
She groans then yanks my arm and tows me along straight to her room. The moment I step foot in the room, I know why she didn’t seem thrilled by my packing inspection.
A large empty box rests in the middle of the room on a rug.
“I’m not so good at packing,” she explains. “Even more so when I won’t even fit into most of these clothes in the coming months. That is confronting, and I’m kind of… well… scared I will just be resorting to ugly maternity dresses or something, then I will just be fat and unattractive. It’s the first spring that I won’t be able to wear my vintage flower dress that fits me to a T,” she squeaks out.
I do my best to bury the laugh because she’s being ridiculous, and I believe she’s aware of it too.
It’s two steps to her, and I capture her wrist, turning her until her back is to my front and we are both staring directly at the full-length mirror.
“I very much disagree on all of that.” I inch the fabric of her shirt up until it’s bunched at the band of her bra. Then I place the palms of my hands around her still-flat belly. “See this?”
She nods.
I bring her close to me, our bodies enfolded. “Our baby is in there. It’s so fucking sexy that you’re carryingmy child.”
Her brows shoot up and now a smile ghosts on her mouth. “Yourchild?”
“Our child,” I correct myself, even though the internal caveman in me enjoys saying my child. Nuzzling my nose into that sensitive spot by her ear, I murmur against her hair. “You’re beautiful, and as this baby grows inside of you, you will glow even more.”
She studies herself in the mirror, my hands staying put on her belly. “Your mom told me that you were a big baby,” she deadpans.
My teeth capture her ear for a gentle touch. “Everyone will see what I did to you,” I whisper.
Our eyes meet in the mirror, and I see how she is now convinced, and I kiss her neck in satisfaction that I made my point. She turns her head and offers me her lips, and I give her what she seeks. I brush her lips with mine, nuzzling our noses, and she chases after my mouth, but I enjoy this dance with her.
But it doesn’t take long for her to win. Our firm kiss is a confirmation. We’re at a good place, she and I. Her body twists until she’s square with me, and she drapes her arms over my shoulders.
“Care to take this to bed?” she hums.
Tempting. So very tempting.
“Not yet. I only reward good behavior. So why don’t you do something with the box.”
She frowns and shoves my shoulder. “Mood killer.”
I chuckle, and we step away from one another. Her hand finds her chin while she contemplates. “Okay, clothes I won’t fit into.”
“Lies.”
“Shoes that need a lot of space.”
