Page 69 of Bound Hearts

“I can only binge so many comedies or detective series. Need to keep it easy. So, I’m giving an episode a try.”

I pick up the remote control and press a button on the bottom of the screen. “Uh, you are on episode four already. I think they classify that as binging.”

She points her finger at me with a funny smile. “Don’t judge. I had to deal with Celeste’s snarls today, had a pregnancy yoga class, and our son decided to practice his kicking skills.”

“Really? Is it that obvious now?”

Sinking deeper into the sofa, I want to just relax for the rest of the day while I massage her feet.

She nods. “Yeah. If I think you could feel it, then I will let you know, I promise. Anyhow, how was your dad?”

I can’t help but smile. "Surprising. I know he has good in him, but I didn’t expect him to set business aside when I told him the news. That’s exactly what he did. I’d like to think he’s excited. He said he would try to find some things from when I was younger. He thinks my mom put a lot of stuff in a box somewhere."

She reaches out to touch me, but she’s too far away; her smile is enough. “It’s good to hear.”

Lifting a shoulder, I decide that there is no reason to make today sentimental. “How was work?”

Sutton growls. “Celeste can be a real bitch, to be honest. Always some snide remark about timelines. Sometimes, though, she seems human—interested in conversations about the baby when I’m at the coffee machine. I think she struggles to balance work with her attempt to connect with the team. I’m giving her the benefit of the doubt.”

“You’re too kind,” I compliment in a flat tone.

“I met with the designer you hired and discussed some ideas for the nursery. Elodie sent a list, so we need to get moving. I’ll order some things online. We can check out the rest next week after your Atlanta trip.”

“Sure. Look at us being on top of the ball.”

She chuckles and points her toe to dig into my thigh. “I could tell you that I’m a good wife and picked up your dry cleaning, but your assistant already handled that.”

I’m about to remind her I don’t have time for small tasks—a privilege of my role—but she flinches before I speak. I straighten my posture and watch her, concerned. “Are you okay?”

Her bright smile appears, and she scoots closer to grab my hand and place it on her belly. “He wants to cooperate, it seems. I think you’ll feel it.”

Feeling nothing, I frown. Sutton uses my hand to prod around her belly, then stops. Suddenly, I feel it. A little tap against my palm. Once, and then a few seconds later, another.

That’s my son in there.

Moving, healthy, and clearly enjoying life.

“Wow,” I breathe out. “He’s moving,” I lament.

“For you. He thought, ‘Oh, my daddy hasn’t felt me yet and has had a long day.’”

The corner of my mouth snags from my smile. “Smart boy.”

Looking back months ago, I’m glad I was adamant about having a baby. I didn’t make my wishes clear to Sutton since she struggled with the news. Planned or not, I didn’t expect how little milestones would resonate, or how much more attached I’d become to both the baby and Sutton. I thought it would mostly happen after the baby arrived, but all my assumptions have flipped.

Another flutter hits my palm, but then it wavers away, and her stomach settles.

“Thank you,” Sutton whispers, almost whimsically.

“For what?” I meet her eyes as her fingers play with my sleeve.

"For your patience. I had so many doubts, but maybe it’s instinct. I can’t imagine not having him or this." She motions between us. "You’ve been waiting for me to catch up without complaint."

Taking her hand in mine, I plant a soft, chaste kiss on her fingers. “Because I knew you would come around.”

Sutton sits up to be closer to me, but it’s noticeable that there is her belly between us, as she tilts her body to square my head in her hands.

“I’m not going to blame it on hormones, but I feel things. I really feel things for you,” her whisper is vulnerable.