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“In there?” he says softly. “There’s really a baby in there? Our baby?”
“Really, really,” I reply just as softly.
Then he drops to his knees and lifts my shirt. I run my fingers through his hair as he gently touches his lips to my stomach. His kiss is light but lingering. It seems to last forever.
And neither of us moves. He stays pressed against my stomach and I stay holding his hair.
Time stands still. All there is is this moment. A moment where silent promises are made and words are left unspoken, because right now is proof that actions speak louder than words.
For one second, his touch has silenced all my fears.
I revel in this second, I hold onto it, and I take the plunge. “I love you, Ty.”
His eyes snap to mine. They widen before they smile, lighting up with a happiness that’s reflected in the curve of his lips. He stands, cups my head, and tilts my face toward his.
“I love you,” he replies, his words buzzing across my lips with his kiss. “You’re a pain in my fucking arse, but I do.”
“Way to ruin the moment, asshole.” I poke his chest.
He laughs and wraps his arms around me. “It was getting a little heavy in here. Thought the mood could do with lightening.”
“Pregnancy and declarations of love will do that to an atmosphere, I guess.” I smile against his chest. “We’ll be okay, won’t we?”
He kisses the top of my head. “I promise. And if we’re not, we’ll keep trying until we are.”
Tyler stares at me across my kitchen table. Contemplative, curious.
“What?” I ask. “I can eat cheese spread on toast if that’s what you’re wondering.”
He smirks. “No.”
“Then what?” I pick up my juice.
“Can we still have sex?”
I spit out my juice. “What?!”
“You know. With the baby. Is it safe?”
I blink at him in disbelief. “It’s a baby, not a fucking vaginal stitch-up! Of course we can still have sex!”
“Can’t I hurt it? I mean… I have a beast of a cock.”
I put my glass down and rest my head in my hands. I will not laugh. I will not… “Oh my god!” I laugh and look up. “No, honey, your ‘beast of a cock’ will not hurt the baby!”
“Good to know.” He goes back to his cereal without another word.
I, however, am still staring like he’s grown two heads. This is easily the strangest breakfast conversation I’ve ever had.
“Where did that come from?”
“I’m an expert on the female anatomy as far as the G-spot. I could navigate to that bitch blindfolded and drunk. Anything past that is like a black hole,” he explains. “For all I know, there’s, like, a jelly layer and the baby could feel me poking you or something.”
I blink at him again. “Um, no. The baby won’t feel a thing.”
“Like I said, good to know.” He grins. “Because I’m still kind of pissed the hell off about the secret thing and we all know what happens when I’m angry.”
“Are you threatening to fuck me over breakfast? Because that’s underhanded.”
