“Like this?” His voice is rough, and I feel him hard against my lower back. Even making cinnamon rolls, even five months pregnant, we can’t stop wanting each other.
“Exactly like that.” My voice comes out breathier than I intend.
Flour dusts our clothes as we work, and when Adrian gets some on my nose, Marcus laughs. The sound is rare and beautiful, and I turn to look at him. His dark eyes hold mine with such fierce love that my breath catches.
We’re cleaning up, flour still dusting the counter, when it happens.
A flutter. Then a distinct push against my palm.
I gasp, my hand flying to my belly. “Oh my God.”
“What?” Marcus is beside me instantly, his hands hovering near mine. “What’s wrong?”
“The baby.” My voice shakes with wonder and fear. “The baby just kicked.”
I grab his hand, pressing it to where I felt the movement. Adrian and Elijah crowd close, all three of them waiting with held breath. The seconds stretch into eternity.
Then it happens again. A tiny foot or fist pushing against the wall of my belly, strong and insistent and real.
Their faces transform with wonder and fear and overwhelming love, and I watch them realize what I already know.
This baby is ours. All of ours. And nothing will ever be the same.
52
ELIJAH
I watch Charlie settle into Adrian’s worn armchair, her belly round and full beneath Marcus’s oversized sweater. Nine months pregnant, and she’s never been more beautiful.
The way the fabric stretches across her breasts makes my dick harden despite the serious conversation we’re about to have. I force my gaze back to her face, to those hazel eyes that shift between green and gold in the lamplight.
Adrian paces by the window, his cassock swishing with each agitated turn. Marcus leans against the desk, his arms crossed over his chest. We’re finally safe from external threats, but now we face something more daunting: building an actual life together.
“The house’s paperwork is finished.” Marcus’s voice is steady, certain. “We can start moving in next week.”
Charlie’s hand moves to her belly, protective and tender. The gesture makes my chest tight with emotions I’m still learning to name. Love. Fear. Overwhelming gratitude that she’s chosen us.
We’re all going to live under one roof, with room to raise children and to take of Rose Davis when she’s able to come home.
It will be different, and Adrian and Elijah will still return to St. Michael’s to perform their daily services.
Deacon Paul will the be lone overnight resident, as Sister Margaret was transferred to another parish.
“How do we explain this to the outside world?” Adrian stops pacing, his gray eyes dark with worry. “Four adults living together, raising a child?”
“We tell them we’re family.” I move to the keyboard in the corner, my fingers finding the keys. Soft music fills the space, calming the tension. “Which is the truth.”
Charlie shifts in the chair, wincing slightly.Mon Dieu.Even pregnant, even terrified about our future, I want her with an intensity that hasn’t diminished. I force my thoughts back to the present danger.
“What about questions about the father?” Her voice is small, uncertain. “People have asked asked.”
Marcus crosses to her, kneeling beside the chair. His hand covers hers on her belly, and I watch something pass between them. Understanding. Acceptance. “We tell them the truth. That we’re all the father.”
Adrian makes a sound low in his throat, something between agreement and fear.
His gaze drops to Charlie’s belly, then rises to her face with an intensity that makes the air crackle.
“We’ve survived everything else,” I remind them, my fingers still moving across the keys.
