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I bite my lip. “Maybe one day.”
Leaning in, he nuzzles my neck. “I’m forty-two, baby. One day might need to come sooner versus later.” He chuckles.
Same.
“Seriously, Broadie. I’d still love the chance to have children. But it’s not a deal breaker for me. Before you came along, I hadn’t ruled out fostering children or adopting one as a single parent.”
“I missed out on so much with my girls.” His expression looks so grim. “I’m open to whatever possibilities the future has in store. So long as you’re here with me.”
His hand drifts down to my belly, a strange expression crossing his face. “You know, you’re right. I don’t want to rush into things with you. Not these kinds of things, anyway. I want to spend time together, you and me. Learn all of your secrets. What makes you happy. And if we have the chance to create a family when the time is right, I’ll be the luckiest guy on earth.”
My heart is swelling in my chest. I’m so in love with this man.
“Come on.” Broadie stands from the lounge chair and pulls me up beside him.
“Where are we going?”
He pulls me along behind him, making his way for the stairs. “To practice.”
“What? You just said—”
“We want to be ready when the time comes, right?”
Following along behind him, I stiffen. I’m not sure I’m ready for him to take charge just yet. Not after all that’s happened between us. I let go of his hand, standing tall in the doorway.
I can tell he senses my hesitancy when he turns to face me. “Poppy?”
It’s now or never. Use your voice, Poppy.
Stepping closer, he pleads, “Let me make it up to you, Pop. Let me show you how sorry I am.” His voice is sincere.
“On your knees, Dr. Weston.”
His eyes bulge, shocked at my request. However, he quickly complies.
I start to tell him, don’t speak. But who am I kidding? I love that dirty mouth of his. So instead, I add, “And if you’re a good boy, I might let you come.”
CHAPTERFORTY
POPPY
Stretching my arms overhead, I blink my eyes open to greet the day. Has the last twenty-four hours been a dream?
As I turn to Broadie’s side of the bed, I find he’s not there. Springing up, it feels like déjà vu. Has he gone to work? As much as I loved the gift of Agent Provocateur and a romance classic, I’d honestly prefer he kept me company. Not Mr. Darcy.
“Good morning, sunshine.”
My head snaps in the direction of his cheerful voice, and I find one hot, shirtless surgeon carrying a breakfast tray.
I am dreaming!
He deposits the tray on the bed beside me and leans in to place a chaste kiss on my temple. “I’m still learning what you like. Coffee or tea?” I hadn’t noticed there was one of each. “And I don’t know how you like your eggs, so I brought yogurt, croissants, and fruit.”
Cupping his cheeks, I pull him toward me for a peck. “This is amazing. I’m not picky. I like just about everything. But coffee is a must.” Lifting the mug to my lips, I sip it carefully. “I save tea for when I’m reading.”
“Good to know.”
“How about you?”
