“Don’t,” I said. “Don’t stop.”
She looked at me.
I took her hand and placed it there myself. Flat against her stomach, my hand over hers.
“You know I’m gonna love this baby just as much as I love Nell, right?” I asked. “That I’m gonna love you as much as I love Nell?—”
“This is so fast, though?—”
“I’m an adaptable guy,” I laughed, voice hoarse. Shit, even I was getting emotional. “Maggie…I knew I was gonna spend the rest of my life loving my little girl the moment I found out she existed. Same way with you. Same way with our kid.”
She stared at me.
I hadn’t planned to say it. It had just—come out, the way things did when you stopped being careful. The wayanywhere you arehad come out andyou’re ithad come out and apparently nowlovewas coming out at midnight in her living room over a positive pregnancy test.
Adaptable guy.
“Nash,” she said.
“Yeah.”
“You just said you love me.”
“I did.”
“We’ve known each other for two months.”
“I’m aware of the timeline,” I said.
She looked at me for a long moment. Something working through her face that I was learning to read—the processing, the sorting, the Maggie-specific way of taking something big and turning it over until she knew what to do with it.
“I love you too,” she said. “I said it last night.”
“You did.”
“So why does it feel different hearing you say it?”
“Because I don’t say it,” I said simply. “I haven’t said it. Not to anyone…not to anyone who isn’t family. But I think you’ve been family from the very beginning.”
She pressed her face into my chest and didn’t say anything for a long moment. I let her have it, my hand moving slowly up and down her back, wanting this,needing thisas much as she did.
“Take me to bed,” she said finally. Into my shirt.
“You’re tired,” I said.
“I’m pregnant,” she said. “And I want you to hold me while I sleep.”
Just that. Just that simple.
I pressed my lips to the top of her head.
“Okay,” I said.
NINETEEN
maggie
We slept until dawn.
