“Wait a minute,” I stop her before she can keep spiraling. “What does our age difference have to do with anything?”
“Miles, we need to be realistic. I’m five years older than you, and maybe right now it might not be obvious, buteventually, it will be. I don’t want our child getting made fun of because of it.”
Her voice is so tiny, I don’t even recognize it.
“Hell no, Penélope,” I say as I stand up.
I cross the room in two strides and pull her into my arms.
“If some loser ever tries to make fun of our kid because his momma is older than me, I’ll teach our child how to defend themselves.” I cup her face firmly. “And if that doesn’t work, I’ll take care of it myself.”
A reluctant smile tugs at her lips, but I’m too worked up to let it go.
“But don’t even think, not for one second, that I’m going to let that be the reason we don’t have this baby.”
Her smile grows. “I was also reading that at thirty-five I’m considered a geriatric pregnancy.”
My brain stalls out for a second.
“Fuck that. Is that even a real medical term?” I demand. “Because if people think thirty-five is geriatric, they’re delusional. You’re the hottest woman I’ve ever seen in my life.”
She cackles at my indignation.
“Yeah, laugh all you want,” I grumble. “But I'm never going to get tired of making love to you. Not at thirty-five, not at sixty. Hell, not even at ninety—even if I have to take the blue pill to keep up.”
I pull her back into my arms, needing her close again.
Her body visibly relaxes against mine.
“So wait,” I say as I slowly put her down on her feet, “what you’re saying is… we’re having the baby?”
My chest feels so tight I can barely breathe while I wait for her answer.
“Yes, Miles.” Her eyes soften as she looks at me. “There are still a million things to figure out, and I know it’s not going to be easy. But if there was any doubt left in my heart…” She reaches up and cups my cheek. “Seeing the hope on your face and the emotion in your eyes tells me I’m making the right decision.”
I fist pump the air before lifting her into my arms again.
“Penélope Marie Levine, me haces el hombre más feliz del universo,” I say in my best Spanish.
I still need a lot more practice if I want to impress her mom someday, but I want Penny to know her heritage matters to me. I want our kids to grow up knowing their roots.
“You make me the happiest woman in the universe,” she says back to me.
I grin before capturing her lips with mine, pouring every ounce of love and excitement I feel into it.
When we finally pull apart, I rest my forehead against hers.
A smirk slowly spreads across my face. “How about we celebrate this news by christening a new spot in the house.”
“I thought we were done christening the house.”
“Are you up for a little adrenaline rush?”
She nods eagerly.
“Maybe.” I shrug innocently. “Then I guess we gotta go to the roof,” I say as I take off for the stairs.
“Wait.” Her voice is panicked. “Is it safe?”
