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I slowly turn my head.

Sumner’s stretched out against the headboard beside me in slutty gray sweatpants and no shirt. Basically what he wears all the time because he knows it makes me drool.

One arm is folded behind his head, and the other is resting over the giant U-shaped pregnancy pillow currently taking up most of the middle of our mattress.

He isn’t even trying to be hot. The position has his chest and stomach stretched out on display, his sweatpants sitting low enough on his hips that I can see the cut of muscle disappearing beneath the waistband. Heat gathers low in my stomach, and I shift under the blanket and drag my attention back to his face.

“I swear to god, if you ruin this movie for me, I’m putting on Sharknado next.”

Sumner turns his head and gives me a look. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

I reach into the popcorn bowl and shove a few pieces into my mouth while he looks back at the television. He lasts maybe ten seconds before he scoffs again.

“That isn’t how air pressure works.”

I groan and let my head fall against the pillow. “Oh my god. Nobody cares how it works.”

“I care.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s becoming a problem.”

He reaches over without looking and steals a piece of popcorn from my bowl.

I slap his hand. “And now you’re eating my snacks while ruining my movie.”

“I’m the one who made the popcorn.”

“Irrelevant.”

His mouth twitches, but he keeps his eyes on the screen.

I point the remote at him anyway. “One more weather lecture and we’re watching sharks get sucked into a tornado.”

Sumner glances at the remote, then back at the television. I’m guessing he sees that I mean business.

“Fine.”

I smile and reach for another handful of popcorn.

Movie night was my idea because I spent most of today on my feet at Bombshell, and by the time I got home, my feet were swollen, my hips hurt, and my lower back was officially done carrying around the extra weight attached to the front of me.

Now I’m wearing one of Sumner’s old T-shirts, my hair is piled on top of my head, and I’m wedged into the giant pillow he bought me with no intention of moving unless the house catches fire.

Even then, I’d get him to carry me.

The whole not wanting to move thing sucks because I have to pee roughly every fourteen seconds now.

Being pregnant is glamorous as fuck.

I’m halfway through another handful of popcorn when the baby rolls hard against the right side of my stomach. My hand immediately settles over the spot, and Sumner turns his attention to me.

“Was that the baby?”

“Yeah.” I set the popcorn on the nightstand and pause the movie before holding my hand out to him. “Come here.”

Sumner rolls onto his side and moves closer while I push the hem of the T-shirt up over my stomach. Somewhere along the way, this became one of those things we both prefer skin-to-skin. He swears he can feel the baby better without fabric in the way, and I’m not exactly complaining about having his warm hand spread over my skin every chance I get.