“You wouldn’t rat me out to Emmy Lou.”
“Wouldn’t I?”
“Nope,” he says, popping the p for emphasis. “Wouldn’t want to alienate your sourdough daddy.”
I cringe at the ridiculous nickname. “You need to stop trying to make the daddy thing stick. I’m never gonna call you that.”
He grins and slides down lower, propping his cheek on his hand right next to my belly. His palm runs the width of my bump and back, stroking it reverently.
“Hey tater tot,” he says, voice pitched low. “Can you do that again for daddy?”
My heart soars so high I fear it might never come down, and a fresh tear drips onto my cheek. The baby moves again, but not enough to be felt from the outside. I take Griffin’s calloused hand and move it lower and to the right, pressing down ever so slightly where I usually feel the most movement.
The baby kicks against our joined hands, and a huff of air escapes him as something like awe overtakes his features. “There you are. God, I love you so much.”
My throat constricts against the rush of unfettered joy. I didn’t think I’d ever have this. I thought we’d be on our own,and I was okay with that, but now, I don’t think I can ever let it go.
All I want is for my baby to know what it’s like to be wholly and completely loved. There’s no doubt in my mind I’ve succeeded in that, at least.
He shifts above me, careful not to lay his full weight on top of me. His eyes close, and he takes my mouth in a languid kiss. It’s a soft exploration, neither of us rushing to deepen it.
“This is everything I’ve ever wanted,” he whispers against my lips. “So, you can take all the time you need. I’ll be right here waiting when you’re ready to accept me.”
After a while, we shift positions. He lies on his back with his arm behind his head, and I use his soft belly as a pillow, closing my eyes to soak in the stillness here. Something tickles my stomach, and when I glance down, I see the sunflower in his hand.
“Maybe we should give the baby a name so you can stop calling them tater tot,” I say teasingly.
He stares at me, aghast that I would ever suggest such a thing. “What do you have against tater tots?”
“Nothing, but I prefer that my baby isn’t named after a breakfast food.”
“That’s offensive. Tater tots aren’t justbreakfastfoods. They’re the perfect food for any meal, crispy but soft on the inside. You can dress them up or eat them plain. What’s not to love?”
“You take potatoes way too seriously, Griffin Hayes. I’m not falling for your propaganda.”
His deep laugh vibrates through me from my toes to my fluttering belly, then everything stills.
“What about Jessie?” he says, swirling the sunflower around my belly button. “It works for a boy or a girl.”
I swallow against the rising tide of emotion—sadness mixed with something I can’t quite name.
“Jessie.” I stare down at my bump, whispering the name like it might hold some kind of answer. It feels so right, like it was always meant to be.
I don’t know why I didn’t think of it myself, but Griffin—he knew. Healwaysknows.
Seven months ago, I resigned myself to a solitary future. I got so used to accepting the bare minimum, why is it so hard now to say yes when someone is offering me the world?
Chapter 24
Denver
? One Man Band - Old Dominion
26 weeks: Baby is the size of prairie chicken
Griffin
Girls, Hayes, and Neighs
