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And Lord help me, I cannot wait for this baby to come. I haven’t been able to keep a single Crunchwrap Supreme down since week ten. I think it’s my mom’s doing. She always scrunched her nose up at me when I ate them, warning me that they were going to make me sick. Well, they finally did. So. Fucking. Sick.
“How’s my gorgeous baby mama?”
I look over my shoulder, watching that handsome man of mine slip out the door. He scoops me up in his arms, sliding beneath me on the lounger, nuzzling his face into my neck.
Is it crazy to admit I actually love this term of endearment? It’s constant, all the baby mamas flying from this man’s mouth. Last week, we went to a black-tie dinner and dance fundraiser where he promptly introduced me as his baby mama to every single person we talked to, one protective hand laid across my belly at all times. I hid my red face in my hands, but an hour in, I tugged him off to a private bathroom, locked us in, and made him have me for dessert. I couldn’t help it. He’s so proud to be a daddy, and that just cranks my gears in a way I can’t explain.
My tummy chooses this moment to growl like an angry bear. I grin up at Avery. “Hungry.”
With a rumbly chuckle, he carts me off to the kitchen, setting me down on the edge of the counter, and unpacks my supersize french fries and equally large Frosty. He swipes a fry through the ice cream and pops it in his mouth, earning a swat on the shoulder from me. My fries.
My legs swing happily from my spot while I grab for my food. “Thank you, baby.”
Avery’s deep brown eyes travel down my body, taking in my lack of pants and his baggy t-shirt hanging off one shoulder. “You aren’t dressed yet.”
“No.” I tear the lid off my Frosty, swirling my hot, salty fries around before shoving them past my lips, humming while I chew. Curling my legs around his waist, I pull him into me.
Avery’s eyes crinkle with his smile. “Why not?”
I lift a shoulder and let it fall. Both our gazes fall to my little eighteen-week baby belly as a dollop of ice cream drips from my handful of fries, splattering on the white tee.
“Because I knew that was gonna happen.”
His eyes squeeze shut with his laughter as he tips forward, leaning his forehead against mine. “I fucking love you.” With a napkin, he cleans the ice cream off my shirt before he pushes the cotton up, dropping a kiss to my belly. “And I fucking love this belly.”
“How was the shop?” I ask, feeding Avery a smothered fry.
“Good,” he mumbles, swallowing. “It’s coming along. On track to open mid-December, but we might push it to January. Casey’s busting his balls.”
“So are you,” I remind him.
Avery and Casey have gone into business together. It’s rather annoying at times, because my brother is over almost every night, nothing but shoptalk about wood and tools going on. But I’m happy for them, especially Casey. He’s still teaching at the college, but this is his last semester.
After talking with Avery, I gave my half of the money from the sale of Dad’s house to Casey. I don’t need it, but he does. He put a chunk of it aside for Vivi, another handful aside for a down payment on a house, and the rest went into the shop they purchased a few weeks ago.
Casey’s had a particularly tough go since Dad’s passing, and this has brought him so much happiness. I’m glad to see him get what he wants, what he deserves.
When I’m all done with my five-star meal, Avery pulls me off the counter, claps a hand to my ass, and says, “Go get dressed before I bend you over the couch and fuck you so hard our baby feels how much I love its mama. We have company coming.”
I’m bubbling with excitement an hour later, looking around our yard. Charlee and Harper have been outside for the last forty minutes, draping pink and blue balloons and decorations over every inch of greenspace.
Charlee wraps her arms around me from behind, the two of us swaying. “I can’t wait to find out if my little munchkin godchild is going to be a girl or a boy.”
“Boy,” I answer without hesitation.
She spins around me, tapping my nose. “You never know. Wouldn’t put it past your dad to screw with you.”
I laugh, because she’s not wrong. But I know he was right. I can feel it, feel our little boy inside of me. Still, there’s a part of me that wonders…what if? Dad was so sure he’d met him in his dream, and I want that to be true. I want our baby to have known his Gramps. And his Gram.
Wyatt strolls through the patio door with Vivi on his shoulders and Casey at his side. Harper huffs, smashing down a sign she made on the table.
“Seriously,” she mutters, turning to us, hands in the air. “Why does he have to carry Vivi around?”
“Because he adores her,” I say. Everyone does; we know this already.
A sneaky smile lingers on Charlee’s lips as she studies Harper. “You’ve got the hots for Wyatt.”
“I do not!” Harper pins her arms across her chest, her gaze shifting sideways, cheeks turning pink as she catches Wyatt’s eye. He winks at her, sliding Vivi down his front so she can terrorize the dogs.
