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“Eleanor is going to be horrified.” A hint of laughter darkened her eyes, and he chuckled, joy growing.

“She might run away.” He dipped his head to kiss her, then a groan rumbled from his throat. “Eva . . . good Lord.”

“Oh, we have to handle her carefully.” She linked her arms about his neck, curving her body into his. “She will not want to share you. She already resists sharing you with Eleanor.”

“We’re making Eva a middle child. On purpose.” He cradled her face in his hands and kissed her again, laughing against her mouth. “We have lost our everlovin’ minds.”

She pulled back enough to hold his gaze, and he didn’t miss the flicker of uncertainty there. “You’re genuinely pleased?”

“Me?” He flexed his fingers, tightening his hold on her jaw. “I was down with having another baby five years ago when we said two was enough.”

“I think we made the right decision.” She dipped her hands under his shirt, stroking the line of his spine. “Eva as a toddler plus managing a newborn?”

“We definitely made the right decision.” Eva had all the intensity of a Falconetti, a fierce independence coupled with emotions that ran deep, and her toddler years had been a wild ride. If Eleanor was destined to be a scientist, Eva was a CEO in the making. A strangled laugh rumbled free of his throat. “Ten weeks? That means we have about six months.”

“Mmm.” She brushed her mouth over his. “We’ll be fine.”

“Yeah.” He rubbed his thumb across one cheekbone, smiling into those incredible green eyes, as ensnared by the mother of his children as he’d been that long ago day at the beach when she’d slid her sunglasses into her hair and he’d gotten his first glimpse of that dark green gaze. “We will be.”

Chapter Seventeen

Songs I’d Rather Not Sing

“He didn’t even tell me about her.” Tick mapped the tiny, barely-there curve of Caitlin’s abdomen. He remembered this from early in her pregnancy with Eva, how the softness of her lower belly gave way to that rounded firmness, weeks before she started to show. Missing all of this with Eleanor still cut deep, but made these moments all the more important. “Just let me figure it out for myself.”

“Perhaps he was afraid telling you over the phone would be awkward.” Playing with the fingers of his other hand, his arm beneath her neck, she turned her head to look at him. He had to be up early in the morning, but this quiet time with her was worth a couple hours of lost sleep.

“But giving me the details of his colonoscopy over a video call wasn’t?” He tilted his head back, askance. “I think he could have said, ‘Boy, I’m dating someone new.’”

“Really?” She drew a circle in his palm, a soft caress. “And your reaction would have been . . .?”

“Perfectly reasonable.” Her laughter vibrated into his palm. The baby didn’t have ears yet, couldn’t hear, but maybe she felt that, too, knew her mama was happy.

Or he, although they were two-for-oh in the girl department. So, yeah, probably she. He was good with that.

He made a slow circle of her belly. “Is it weird if we use Emilia, when we talked about it before?”

“No, I don’t think so.” A pensive note to her voice, she tangled their fingers, stroking into the sensitive spaces between his. “It’s a pretty name.”

“Her middle name could be Eugenia.”

Her husky little laugh shimmered over him. “Of course.”

“I really like Emilia Maria.” He touched his chest with two fingers, then cupped their unborn child once more. “For her mama.”

“And let me guess . . . if he’s a boy, Lamar Eugene III.” Her hold on his fingers tightened. “And you’ll want to call him Gene.”

“I would love that, but two Genes might be a bit much. Plus, I can hear you don’t like that idea.” He grinned into the dimness. “He’d need his own nickname.”

“Holy Mother.”

“Now hear me out.” He rolled to his side, propping on his elbow.

“I’ll be hearing you out . . . for six months.”

“Nah.” He dipped his head to kiss her, chuckling against her lips. “Only until we know if it’s a boy or a girl.”

“Maybe you should tell me more about Gene’s lady friend.”