AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He swallows and cups my face with his hands. “You’re pregnant?”
I nod, tears filling my eyes. “Yes, six weeks.”
He smashes his lips to mine, surprising me. I widen my eyes, and then slowly close them as I fall into the kiss. He pulls back, his eyes darting between mine.
“You sure?”
“Pretty damn sure.” I laugh.
He chuckles, swiping the tears that have leaked down my cheeks. “Kiki Forbes Reed, you are stuck with me even if you’re questionable at fixing wardrobe malfunctions, horrible with the laundry, and break all my favorite guitars. You are stuck with me every day until I take my last breath. I am the luckiest son of bitch on this earth to be stuck with you.”
“And me you, Tatum.” I lift up on tiptoe and kiss him.
He swoops me up into his arms, the train of my beaded gown dragging along the floor as he carries me to our bedroom.
“Did you light candles? It’s beautiful. Are those white rose petals?” I ask, noticing there are about a dozen candles lit around the room and petals on the floor and bedspread.
“Uh, Kiki, it wasn’t me. But remind me to thank our stalker later. Come to think of it, he wasn’t holding Bankie when he left.” He quirks his lips and I giggle against his chest.
“Drew never lets Bankie out of his sight.”
He stands me in the middle of our bedroom and unzips my gown. It pools at my feet. He holds my hand as I step out of it.
“It’s so damn quiet.” He smiles while I unbutton his tuxedo shirt.
“Too damn quiet.” I hum, flinging it back to reveal his tanned muscular chest.
His hands smooth around my waist and draw me to him. “Thank God.”
I place my hands on his chest, the heat seeping through my fingers, his heartbeat steady. “Wait.”
“What’s wrong?” He rears his head. “Kiki, what are you doing?”
I get down on my hands and knees and look under the bed and then make my way over to our walk-in closet. Both are blessedly TJ-free. “Just checking.” Smiling, I slide back into his arms.
“Good thinking.”
“Remember, you’re stuck with me—and TJ.”
Tatum nods, leaning down, and kisses me until I forget about TJ, guitars, pink shirts, and even babies.
Chapter 30
TJ
“Ladies, it’s abig night!” I singsong, plopping down on my couch with a bottle of water. Bartie jumps on the couch and head bumps my arm before climbing into Kiki’s lap. Tonight the girls are joining me in a little TV-watching entertainment ofNashville Next’s latest documentary.
“Some people call me the space cowboy, some call me a rocket of love? Is that a direct quote?” Kiki looks up from the article she’s reading and raises an eyebrow.
“I thought it was catchy.”
“First of all, no one has ever called you that. Second, that’s not the correct lyrics from ‘The Joker’. It’s gangster of love.”
“Do I look like a gangster to you?” I ask, pointing the remote at the flat screen.
“Well, you definitely don’t look like a rocket of love.”
I roll my eyes and wave my hand for her to continue reading.
