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“A boy!” he yells and sweeps me in his arms. I laugh with him and then Marie tackles my back into a hug, sandwiching me between them.
I know that he was fine with either gender, but I know that he really wanted a boy. “My boy,” he whispers in my ear, and I hide my face in the crook of his neck, taking a moment together.
My baby boy.
* * *
One Year Later
Meghan
* * *
I hear them before I open my eyes. I smile and look over to see Dutton in Terror’s arms drinking a bottle.
“You didn’t wake me. My breasts are aching.”
“I wanted you to sleep but he is not happy with this bottle.”
I sit up and raise my hands to take him. Terror sets him gently in my arms, lifting my night shirt down.
He is such a hands-on father. He has been here through every feeding, even through the night, doesn’t matter if I’m the one who is doing all the work with the feeding.
I do have breast milk stored but my baby prefers the real thing. I rest my head on Terror’s shoulder, and his arm is wrapped around the both of us.
“I never knew you could love someone so fiercely as I do him. The things I would do to make sure he is safe and happy,” I whisper to his small little face. He is the spitting image of his daddy.
Terror runs the back of his hand along his cheekbone. “The fierce protectiveness I have for him is all consuming.”
“He is the future of the club; we are going to leave him a legacy that will last for many generations.” The guys are already planning for their boys to take over the club one day.
I had him at home in this bed. I wanted it to be in a place where I felt safe. Knight delivered him with Daniella at his side; it was a peaceful, painless, and amazing experience.
“I love you, my wife, my life and my whole fucking world.” Terror turns my head so I’m looking at him, away from the baby.
To this day he can still make me cry with his words. The love I have for him grows daily.
I kiss him fiercely, like it’s going to be our first and last kiss. I could kiss him forever without tiring.
But there is something I need to tell him. After my six-week checkup, Terror and I decided no birth control to just let nature take its course. If it’s meant to be, it will be.
Baby Dutton is four months old and I’m pregnant. I suspect I’m around three or four weeks. I reach over into the nightstand where I stored the test I took earlier. I have taken one every single day and now it’s two bright pink lines.
“What is it?”
I lift the test and hand it to him. His face shows his shock at seeing the lines, but his face turns to one of pure love and excitement.
I love that look on his face. “You’re pregnant?”
I nod. “We’re having another baby.”
He laughs loudly. “Shit, I have the best swimmers,” he says proudly, and I roll my eyes so hard that I’m surprised that they don’t get stuck.
Little Dutton unlatches and lets out a small little cackle like he knows what his daddy is laughing at.
“Good thing we can practice for the next one after this one.” He rubs my tummy and I cover my face. “How many do you want, Terror?” I ask.
“I want four more after this one,” he says proudly.
