“She and Blake will have the best.”
“We’re not talking about him.”
“He’ll have the best,” he reiterated, leaving no room for argument.
I wanted to tell him something fierce that I’d decide what was best for my son, but chose to let that go for another day.
We’d been operating as a family unit while away and Blake had loved having 24/7 access to Patrick. Something he’d miss when we went back to reality. But I couldn’t let him get too attached, because although I applauded Patrick’s easy acceptance of the baby I was carrying, he was still so angry about Jack. I didn’t want Blake to mourn if Patrick decided the full-time care of a child wasn’t all fun and games. If he left us too. If he decided he’d had enough.
“Communication.”
“Everyday. Multiple times,” he shot back.
“Do I even get a say in this?”
He dropped a plate of pancakes and bacon in front of me. “What were you going to suggest?”
“We need to speak every day.”
He handed me a fork. I dumped syrup all over my breakfast and dug in.
“We don’t move in together until the third trimester,” I said once I’d swallowed. “We’ll continue that arrangement for two months after she’s born. Unless there are complications.”
“Complications?”
“With her health. With our living situation.”
“Is something wrong?”
His concern, fear, made my chest constrict.
“Everything’s fine. I-I wasn’t trying to worry you.” But I’d lost a baby before.
It felt like a spear stabbed in my chest. What if I lost Gummy too?
He picked up his own fork, but didn’t eat. “It doesn’t have to be strained between us. I’d rather it wasn’t.”
“Me too.” Surprise flickered across his features after I spoke. “This will be a lot easier if it’s not.” I hated being at odds with people. Hated the fighting. Hated the loneliness it brought.
When he was finished with half his plate, he pushed it toward me. “Want the rest?”
Without hesitation, I pulled it closer, dumped more syrup on the pancakes, and shoveled them into my mouth.
“Little dude still sleeping?”
“Mmm. Hmm.”
“We have to be out of here by noon.”
I glanced behind him at the clock on the stove. It was just after six.
“Back to reality.” I drove down my disappointment.
The last couple of days hadn’t been great, but they had been better than being at home.
In a few minutes, our feet hit the sand with Blake between us, holding each of our hands. We walked along the water’s edge, lifted him every time a wave came in. That giggle was what I lived for. I tucked the memory in my soul for the times later when I was at my worst.
We built one more sandcastle until Blake fell asleep with his shovel in hand. Gently, Patrick pried it from his fingers and scooped him up. I gathered our things and followed them inside.
“He’s out out.” Patrick shed his T-shirt as he came into the bedroom.
“Which means he’ll be a live wire on the plane.”
“I see more dirty looks in my future.” He grabbed me from behind and put his chin on my shoulder. “You feel okay? Up to traveling?”
“If I said I wasn’t, could we stay?”
“You’d want to?”
“Don’t you love it here?”
“I needed this more than I realized,” he said as he steered me toward the bathroom. Once in front of the vanity, we washed our hands. In the mirror, his eyes dropped down to our hands on my stomach. “I can’t get used to it.”
He lifted the hem of my shirt, revealing the skin of my belly. He caressed around my belly button, wonder in his touch. I allowed him to explore, to get to know our gummy, even as goosebumps rose on my skin.
“She’s incredible.”
I fought a smile. “Hopefully, she’s not like either one of us.”
“I want her to be as spirited as her mother.”
I swallowed thickly. “You want to deal with two of us?”
“You don’t think I can handle it?”
“How could anybody?”
His hands splayed across my stomach. “When will you start to show?”
“At least a few more weeks.”
He appeared disappointed. “I want to be able to touch whenever I want.”
A sharp gasp escaped me. “I—”
“Don’t keep me from our gummy. I want her to know me when she gets here.”
My nose tingled. “Okay.”
“Why are you about to cry?”
“I don’t know.”
“I can’t have my girls upset.” He raised my arms over my head and stripped off my shirt.
I stood rigid in only my shorts.
“Do you ever look at yourself?” He drifted his fingers across my chest, around one nipple then the other. “See how perfect you are?”
I attempted to fold my arms over my middle, but he batted them away, tracing my stretch marks.
“These show you’re a warrior.” My vision got blurry. “You’ll have more after Gummy, and I’ll treasure every single one. Because they’ll remind me of what you’ve given me.”
“Patrick.”
“This is hard for you, but if I didn’t feel you, I’d never know. Let me make it easier, Wicked. Let me show you just how in awe of you I am.” He kissed my neck, his skin hot against mine. “Can I do that?” He dipped his finger below my waistband and traced across my lower stomach.
I shivered and my lids drifted shut.
“Don’t close your eyes. Look at me. At us.”
Heat singed me from the inside out. I guided his other hand to my shorts and gave them a gentle push. His heart thumped against my back as my breath grew shallower.
“Be here with me,” he rasped as he inched the fabric down my thighs.
I stared, rapt as his fingers trailed up my sides to my shoulders. He kneaded them as he kissed my neck.
I flexed my hands at my sides. His hands, his words, his attention. It was addictive. He was addictive. I couldn’t blame him for that one time we’d been together. It had been so long since I’d been touched, kissed, seduced, that my body had responded instantly. Just as it was now. In that moment, and now, I felt desirable
