The door closes behind them.
The shop goes quiet.
Wyatt looks at me like he’s been waiting five years for this exact silence.
My pulse jumps. “Don’t.”
His eyes flick to my mouth. “Don’t what?”
“Look at me like that,” I say, but my voice is already softer than it should be.
Wyatt takes one slow step closer. “Like my wife?”
I lift my chin, pretending. “Like your?—”
“My forever bride,” he finishes, voice low.
Heat slides down my spine. Pregnancy has turned my body into a live wire. Wyatt knows it. He doesn’t push gently. He never has.
He cups my belly with one hand, thumb stroking the curve like it’s a secret. “You okay?”
I swallow. “I’m… tired.”
Wyatt’s gaze sharpens. “Then you’re coming with me.”
I blink. “Where?”
His mouth tilts. “Hot spring.”
My brows lift. “The hot spring.”
“The one I found first,” he says, voice smug. “The one I’m still not telling anyone about.”
I snort. “You told Levi once.”
Wyatt’s eyes narrow. “Levi doesn’t count. Levi forgets things on purpose.”
I laugh, then wince slightly as the baby shifts. Wyatt’s hand tightens instantly, protective.
“Easy,” he murmurs.
I glare at him. “Don’t start treating me like glass.”
Wyatt leans in close. “You’re not glass. You’re mine.”
My breath catches hard.
Five years, two kids, one baby on the way, and he still says it like that—possessive but reverent, like the wordmineis a promise to protect, not a chain.
I swallow. “You’re going to get me in trouble saying things like that.”
Wyatt’s gaze drags down my body—sweater stretched over my belly, leggings, hair messy from a full day of being everyone’s everything. “You’re already in trouble.”
He kisses my mouth—slow, firm, familiar—then pulls back just enough to murmur, “Go change. Bring the robe. I’ll start the truck.”
I try to sound annoyed. “You’re bossy.”
Wyatt’s smile is wicked. “You married me.”
