We’re sitting on the deck of our house, three weeks after I proposed to her.
I still can’t believe how long I waited to say I love you. Even if it was only days after we revealed the truth to Alexis, it felt so much longer, like years, as though I’ve had all this joy bottled up inside of me and now it’s finally burst free.
I smile at my fiancé. She’s wearing one of those spring dresses, the kind with just enough cleavage to make me feral. The fabric is so alluring, the way it settles like mist against her curvy form, outlining her shape.
It’s all the more tempting because I know how silky wet she’ll feel if I slide my hand up her dress between her thighs.
She’s so receptive to my touch. I’ll never get tired of making her sopping wet for me, exploring every position and every inch and every moment.
“My teeth are fine,” I say.
I had a minor dental issue last week, meaning I had to use a straw for a little while. But I’m back to normal now.
Tamia takes a sip of her drink, sucking loudly on her straw.
I chuckle. “Are you glaring at me for not using a straw, my sweet fiancé?”
“I do not glare.” She giggles. “But yeah, I did think you were going to use one.”
I place my glass down. “What’s the big deal? The dentist said it was a minor thing.”
“I know. It’s not a big deal.”
I smile as I reach across the table, softly touching her chin and guiding her gaze to mine. “Are you sure? Because it looks to me like you’re pouting.”
“I am not pouting. I just thought you might want a straw.”
I tilt my head at her. “Why do I feel like this is about more than my teeth?”
She gets this brilliant smile at my question. I know this smile, it’s the one she had when she signed up for college, when Alexis told us she’d found her own place, when her lease officially ended on her apartment.
It’s the smile I’ll never get tired of seeing.
“I had it all planned out. Maybe it was silly.”
“What was?” I ask.
She sits back, placing her hands over her belly.
She’s been doing that a lot the last couple of days.
It always stirs the beast inside, making me want to grab her belly myself, to indulgently stroke my hands along the place that’s going to carry my child.
“Maybe go and get a straw. And please, don’t make fun of me. I was trying to be romantic, I guess. Though in hindsight I’m wondering if this ever would’ve been… okay, I’m rambling. Please.”
“A straw?”
I stand, my hammering heart fueling the movement.
It’s a struggle to stop my mind from leaping around to all the possibilities, but mostly I settle on one.
I can’t dare to let myself believe that.
Walking from the balcony, I move across the apartment into the kitchen. The straw container is in the corner. I grab it and look inside.
A gasp escapes me, a feral quiver. It’s like I’m an animal who’s been hunting for days and days, and finally, I’ve found a reason to stop. My whole world flips and suddenly I think I might shed tears, but not as a sob, not a tremor of sadness.
This is a mate's joy, and I let out a roar because it’s done. It’s happening. We’re going to have a baby.
I take out the plastic bag, staring down at the pregnancy test contained within, saying it aloud to make it feel real.
“We’re going to have a baby.”
“Yes.”
I turn to find Tamia standing in the kitchen, toe nuzzling the floor. It’s like she doesn’t know what my reaction is going to be when really there can be only one, the only thing that makes sense.
Rushing forward, I pull her into my arms. She cries out in happiness as I spin her around, pushing her gently against the kitchen counter. She moans and drags her fingers through my hair, down my back, as our lips clash.
“I know it was goofy,” she says. “I thought it would be a nice surprise. Damn you and your teeth.”
I laugh as happiness bubbles up inside me, as our future becomes so much closer, so much brighter. Smoothing my hand between us, I rest it over her belly, holding it there. Her skin is warm through her dress.
“I love you,” I whisper. “And I love our baby already. Is that even possible?”
Her hand rests over mine. “There are lots of things I didn’t think were possible before we met. I love you – both – so much.”
“Both?” I grin. “Maybe we’re having twins, or triplets, or even quadruplets…”
She giggles, slapping my chest. “Now wait a second. I didn’t sign up for that!”
“Or five… what’s after quadruplets. Quintuplets?”
“You’re crazy.”
She laughs, standing on her tiptoes and bringing her lips to mine.