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“You cut my fucking hair to test my DNA?” she screams. “Are you even listening to yourself? Do you know how fucking mental you sound? You went behind my back to do all that without telling me and expect me to not be angry?”
“Are you forgetting that your fucking father killed my mum?”
“That’s separate from what I’m talking about,” she says through clenched teeth, dismissing my point entirely. “This is about you and me. How we handle problems. How can I be sure you’re not going to do some shit like this in the future?” Alize waves her hands wildly. “You could’ve talked to me about it. I would have given you my hair if you just asked.”
“It was an extenuating circumstance, Alize. I—”
She holds up a finger. “No, you don’t get to say that. If we’re going to do this for the rest of our lives, there can’t be any extenuating circumstances. We have to be united all the time. We’re going to be parents for fuck’s sake Alex, you can’t just—”
Her hand snaps over her mouth before she can finish her sentence. Her eyes are wide with horror, and it takes me a few seconds to process what she’s just said.
Did she just say we’re going to beparents?
My head’s stopped spinning, and the pain on my cheek is completely forgotten. Her reaction tells me that this is something she didn’t mean to tell me, which means she’s talking about now, not some point in the future when we will be parents.
We already are.
“You’re pregnant?”
Alize seems to have withered in the past few seconds, and the fiery rage from earlier has turned to smouldering coals. She stares at me wide-eyed.
Then she nods.
Shenods.
She’s pregnant. She’s pregnant with my child.
I jump to my feet, catching her around her waist and hoisting her into the air. She grips my shoulders, her body still stiff from shock. Spinning her around, I press a kiss to her collarbone, holding her as tightly—and gently as I can.
When I set her back on the ground and cup her cheeks in my hands, she looks a little less tense and more relaxed. She holds on to my wrists, and I stare at her, memorising this moment.
There’s warmth spreading in my chest, the flutter of butterfly wings against my lungs. I’ve never felt anything like it, but if I had to describe it, I would compare it to how I felt the first time Alize told me she loved me, or even the first time I realised how much I loved her. It feels right. It feels like home.
The darkness of the room has turned her hazel eyes almost brown, but they’re brimming with emotion—she’s happy, but she’s also scared, unsure. I knew it would happen sooner or later. It’s not like we ever took any precautions, part of the thrill for me always came from the risk of getting her pregnant.
And now that she is? I don’t think anything could make me happier.
“I love you so fucking much, Alize Moreau,” I whisper, lowering my lips to hers for a soft kiss. “You look scared, but you shouldn’t be. I think you’ve just made me the happiest man in the world.”
“You mean that?”
I bop my head quickly. “Yes,. Why wouldn’t I be happy, sweetheart?”
“Because it’s unplanned,” she says, softly. “It’s going to change things. I’m going to change so much within the next year. And then we’re going to have a kid, Alex. An actual human being to take care of. Forever.”
The dread in her voice is unmistakable. I press a kiss to the knot in her forehead then smooth it out with my thumb. Alize has changed so much over the past few months, but one thing is always going to remain the same it seems—she’s a worrywart.
“It might have been unplanned for you, but I always knew it would happen.” I chuckle. “We’ve been fucking raw, Alize. This happens.” There’s a sheepish set to her mouth now. “The first time we had sex, I didn’t have a condom on me. And after I felt how good your pussy was, it was never an option.” I shrug. “Oops.”
Even though she’s trying to be annoyed with me, a small smile makes it onto her features. I can tell it’s a blush, even in the dim light.
“After this baby, I’m getting on birth control,” she says. “If I leave it up to you, I’ll always be pregnant.”
She’s joking, but the thought thrills me. I picture Alize a few months from now, with her swollen belly, and blood starts rushing southward.
“Maybe that’s how I want you to be,” I say. It doesn’t amuse her as much as it does me. “I’m joking, sweetheart.” I am not. “Yes, you can get on birth control.”
“I wasn’t asking for permission.” She quirks an eyebrow. “I’m already scared shitless about having one child. There’s no way we’re having another so soon.”
