Our daughter would be whoever she wanted to be.
Chapter 29
Stella
“Wake up, baby,” Maddox murmured, rubbing slow circles across my lower back.“Time for bed.”
I blinked beneath the dim glow of the floor lamp. The television screen had gone black, the room quiet except for the faint hum of the house settling for the night.
“How long did I last?” I asked, gripping his thigh to steady myself as I pushed upright.
“Hmm. About twenty minutes,” he said, tugging the blanket off me.
I grunted.
All the extra walking around the city must have taken its toll. But it had been worth it just to see his face light up when he came out of his office earlier.
He stood, the warmth of his body leaving my side, and held his hands out for me. I tried not to look—but it was impossible when his dick was directly in my line of sight.
Old habits were hard to ignore.
My eyes travelled higher until I found his smirk waiting for me.
“I’m at your service,” he said, taking a dramatic bow.
He wasn’t even lying. From the day I’d thrown half a fruit bowl at him to now, he’d made good on that promise—his time, his patience, and, apparently, his body, day or night. Pregnancy had been an adjustment for both of us.
“Why thank you, kind sir,” I said, holding my hands out to him.
His head snapped up from the bow and he immediately took my outstretched hands.
With a careful pull, he helped me to my feet. I was seven months along now and, although I was mostly belly and boobs, everything had started to feel heavier. Simple things—standing up, turning over, climbing stairs—required a bit more effort than they used to.
His hands steadied me as we shuffled toward the hallway.
“What do you think about Madeline?” I asked.
“Mm. Madeline. Madeline,” he repeated thoughtfully, as if testing the sound of it in his mouth.“I like it.”
He guided me toward the stairs, one hand resting protectively on my back.
“Madeline, did you break that window?” he continued, already warming to the idea.“Madeline, did you punch that boy’s face in?”
He nodded to himself.
“Hm. I think this one goes to the top.”
“Poor Madeline hasn’t even appeared yet and you’re already accusing her of crimes,” I said, rubbing my belly gently.
“She’ll be a spirited lass,” he said in a truly terrible Irish accent.
I laughed, leaning slightly into him as we started up the stairs.
“Spirited or not,” I said, patting my stomach again,“she’s definitely yours with the way she keeps me up at night.”
By the time we reached the top of the stairs, he was already crouched in front of my belly, completely focused on it. His hands spread over the curve of my stomach as he began whispering to my womb, already shortening her name to Maddie as if it had always belonged to her.
I leaned against the hallway wall and watched him.
