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Who is Sebastian? She’s never mentioned anyone by this name before, and I don’t know anyone at school by this name.
“Sebastian?”
She nods. “Sebastian Cross.”
My stomach, along with my jaw, hit the floor, and it feels like I’ve been sucker punched in the gut as it suddenly dawns on me who she is talking about. “You don’t mean Sebastian Cross? As in Mr. Cross, our history teacher?”
Her eyes meet mine, and silence fills the room. She doesn’t need to answer. I already know. The look in her eyes says it all. But I keep silent, giving her the chance to confirm it herself, and after what feels like forever, she finally speaks.
“The one and only.”
Oh my fucking god.
Epilogue
MASON
Ten Years Later
“Where on earth are thoseTwizzlers?”Ava growls, slamming the cupboard door shut. Sitting at the kitchen table, I pause from taking a bite of my peanut butter on toast and watch as she storms around the kitchen.
Opening up the cupboard that houses the coffee mugs, she scowls then slams that one shut too.
I guess now wouldn’t be the time to tell her I took the last packet ofTwizzlersto work yesterday and forgot to buy more.
She stands on her tiptoes to reach the top cupboard, her belly resting on the kitchen bench. And finding that void of her precious candy, she closes it with a huff, then turns, knocking a glass off the bench with her belly.
Smashing into pieces when it hits the floor, she looks down at the glass scattered everywhere and bursts into tears. “Oh my god! I’m so fat I’m destroying the house!” she wails.
Jumping up out of my seat, I race over. “Hey,” I coo, taking her into my arms. “Shh. You’re not fat. You are pregnant, baby.”
“But I’m so fat, Mason, you can’t even hug me properly,” she continues to wail as her protruding stomach blocks her arms from wrapping around me.
“Here.” I move her sideways, pulling her into an embrace, and she buries her face in my chest, wrapping her arms around my waist. I rub my hand over her nine-month-pregnant belly, and my heart swells when I feel our baby kick the palm of my hand.
Ava’s pregnancy has been a wild ride of fluctuating hormones and weird cravings.Twizzlersfor breakfast is the latest one. The fact she dips them in yogurt makes it even weirder.
On top of the cravings are the waterworks. I couldn’t count how many times I have come home to her bawling her eyes out on the couch after watching some commercial or TV show. The fact that she got so emotional over watchingThe Wedding Singerstill baffles me to this day.
It’s a comedy.
The last nine months have been a crazy ride of tears, tantrums, and midnight sex. Her increased sex drive is by far my most favorite part. If I thought she was insatiable before, it’s nothing compared to the wildcat she has become since we found out she was pregnant. She can’t seem to get enough, and I couldn’t count the number of times she has woken me up in the middle of the night, straddling my waist and sinking my cock deep inside of her.
But I honestly wouldn’t change a single moment of it. Watching her belly grow with my child is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, and I have loved every minute of it.
Smoothing my hand over her hair, I kiss the top of her head, and she breaks away, sniffling, wiping away some stray tears. “I’m sorry. I’m just so tired of being pregnant. Can’t you do something to get her out?”
“How do you know it’s a girl?”
“Because she is refusing to come out. Only a girl would be this unreasonable,” she mutters, and I bite the inside of my cheek to hold back my amusement.
“You’re not due for three more days, Flower. We just have to wait.”
“Oh, come on. You’re a doctor,” she whines. “Don’t you have anything in your medical bag you can give me?”
“Sorry, baby. Oxytocin is not something I tend to carry around with me.”
Blinking back tears, she drops her head. “I’m just so ugly. How do you even find me attractive anymore?”
