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I smile.

“We’re going to have a baby.”

For the first time since I’ve known him, the God of Wrath is completely speechless.

He stares at my stomach.

Then at me.

Then back at my stomach.

“A…baby?”

I nod.

“Your baby.”

His magenta eyes widen.

“You’re carrying my child?”

“Well, unless there’s another six-foot-seven immortal god running around New Orleans that I don’t know about…”

“Wren.”

His voice breaks.

And suddenly, I’m crying all over again.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

He drops to his knees in front of me, his enormous hands settling gently against my hips.

Then he presses his forehead against my stomach.

For a long moment, he doesn’t move.

When he finally looks up, his eyes shine with emotion.

“I did not know this was possible.”

I brush my fingers through his dark hair.

“Apparently, you’re full of surprises.”

He laughs softly.

Then kisses my stomach.

Once.

Twice.

As though he cannot quite believe what’s happening.

“A child,” he whispers.

“Our child.”