“Clover, if you keep trying to escape, I’m only going to turn into more of a caveman.”
She grinned over her shoulder. “Promise?”
“With those tits in my face? Yes.” Her creamy, round globes were emblazoned into my memory. I hadn’t gotten to play with them nearly enough.
“I’ll go clean up, and then we’ll check on Bean’s size.” She found a pair of pajamas and went to the bathroom.
I set her phone on her nightstand, zoomed around the room, and ducked into the office to get our clothing. By the time she returned, I had our shirts and pants folded, and I moved the goddamn pillows. The covers on her side of the bed were pulled back, and a glass of water was next to her phone. My own body had calmed the hell down.
She stopped, blinking. “Thanks for picking up.”
“I’m handy.”
“Are you?” she asked playfully.
“I’d throw a pillow at you, but I piled them on the dresser.” Might as well get that out of the way. “Thought we could look through first-trimester stuff together.”
She crawled in and snuggled closer to the midline than she normally did, but then there wasn’t a fluffy wall blocking her way. “You’re interested?”
“Yes,” I said honestly.
She looked at me for a moment, half a smile on her face like she was afraid I was lying.
I used my phone instead to pull up information. “What are you, nine weeks along?”
“Yes, that’s what the OB figured.”
The glow of the screen lit our faces. “Look at that. We’re in green-olive territory.”
“I can’t have the martini because I have the olive.”
I chuckled and read over the information. “It says you might still have first-trimester fatigue. Are you tired?”
“I’ve been tired for a while, but it helps to work at home.”
“It’s not more tempting to nap?”
“Now it’s more tempting to do other things in the bed.”
I coughed out a “shit.” We’d been living together for six weeks, and I didn’t know her hormones had been giving her ideas. I forced myself to keep scrolling, or I’d take her again, and after looking at baby stuff, this would be more than appeasing her hormones. I’d be making love, and neither of us had signed up for that. “Guess what? Its tail is going away.”
“Yay?”
I grinned. “The tail’s going away, but the heart is getting stronger.”
“I mean, if I had to choose, I guess I’d take the heart.”
“You wouldn’t have a choice.” I clicked the screen off and set the phone down. “You’ve got too good of a heart, sweet Clover. The baby is going to have a big one.”
“Do you think…” Her breathing turned steady.
Did she fall asleep? “You awake?”
“Yeah,” she said, almost sadly. “Do you think the baby will get more of your traits and not his?”
My throat got thick. She’d rather her baby get more of the Wagner traits that I have? I never questioned that I had overcome whatever poor upbringing I’d had. It was even more apparent when I moved back in with my parents and became their dude Cinderella while every little scrap of help they gave me was held against me. But nothing proved how much I’d grown away from them as much as her question. “I think with you as a mom, everything is going to be okay. But if he gets Elijah’s head for numbers, that isn’t terrible.”
She laughed. “True. And his ability to eat anything without stomach problems.”
