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“You’ll marry me, right?” I blurt out. “Shit, sorry. I’m not sure where the filter between my brain and mouth has disappeared. I mean, I want to marry you, I just didn’t mean to blurt it out.”
Shut up, Ryder.
I chance a glance at her and see her face split into a huge grin. “You really want to marry me?”
“As soon as it can be arranged. I’m making damn sure you can’t get away from me again . . . And it’s important you know that this would have been the outcome even if our baby wasn’t on the way. I need you to believe me.”
“I do,” she says, and her voice is full of emotion. I know she’s saying it from the heart.
I roll onto my side. “I love you, Dahlia.” I kiss her shoulder and feel her shudder. “I felt as though my life wasn’t worth living after you left. I carried on because I had to, not because I wanted to. We have to promise to face the other instead so that there isn’t any misunderstandings again.”
She entwines her fingers with mine on her stomach. “I promise, Ryder. I don’t want to be away from you again. It hurt too much.”
She turns and faces me so I kiss her on the nose.
“I promise to do the same.”
She turns away and snuggles her bottom into me, causing my dick to perk back up.
Laughing, she admits, “I want you inside me and holding me close, but my belly is going to be in the way.”
“Not if I slip inside you without moving.”
“Um, oh, yeah. That’s sounds good.”
She’ll have to wait because I need to know more about what’s been going on in her life. Last night, I’d been too overwhelmed to think, but now, I need to know.
I caress over her stomach. “So, how long do we have to get the spare bedroom ready for our daughter?”
Saying ‘our daughter’ causes my heart to flutter with happiness.
“Around four months, give or take a week or two.”
“Chosen any names yet?”
“No. I couldn’t bring myself to do that while so much was uncertain. I wanted you.”
She takes my breath away.
“I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere.”
Turning onto her back, she smiles up at me as I prop my head on my hand.
“Are you really happy that we’re having a baby?” she asks.
“Oh, babe. How can I not be? A little girl who’s going to look just like her mama.”
I caress her belly and freeze when her bump moves against my hand.
Dahlia smiles, and presses my hand into her stomach, and I feel it again.
“That’s our daughter letting you know she’s listening.”
I have no words as I lie here with my hand on my woman and our baby tosses around inside her mama.
“How does it feel? When she moves,” I ask in wonder.
“Like butterflies fluttering around,” she smiles, “unless she punches or kicks, then it’s a weird feeling, but one I welcome because it tells me she’s doing well.”
