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“Exactly. She doesn’t need you to play matchmaker.”
“But I’m a good matchmaker! Just look at Rowan and Konstantin over there. The two of them haven’t stopped talking since she got here.”
I shake my head. “Just stay out of it, Paige.”
She grins at me, and I know she’s not about to listen. It’s one of the most infuriating, amazing things about her.
“This is your fault, you know.” She smooths a hand down my chest, her finger drawing circles.
“Explain.”
“Because of you, I’m happy. Deliriously, wholly, wonderfully happy,” she tells me. “And I want to make sure that everyone I love feels the kind of happiness I feel.”
“So I need to make you less happy?”
“Or you need to make mesohappy that I’m too busy to play matchmaker.”
I look at her through hooded eyes. “Sounds like you have a very specific idea on how I might accomplish that. Care to share?”
She gives me a shy smile. “I want another baby.”
“Another one?” I look over at the two we already have, both of whom are currently trying to eat butterflies. “I mean… we’ve got two.”
“I know, but if this year has taught me anything, it’s that I love being a mother. Don’t you love being a dad?”
“Of course I do.” She pouts and I brush my thumb over her lower lip. “But I love you. More than anything in the world. If you want another baby, then you’ll get another baby. No matter how many times we have to try.”
A blush spreads over her cheeks. “That’s the spirit, Mr. Orlov.”
I groan. “Maybe we should get started right now.”
She laughs and flounces back to the party. Over her shoulder, she calls, “You better give me a glass of champagne before you start talking like that.”
