"If we have a kid, I want them to be proud of me, Savannah. I don’t want them just to think of me as a Five Points’ butcher. I want them to know I’m more than what he made me."
My heart turned to goop. "Theywillbe proud of you, baby."
"Not if I don't make things right. The NWS are a plague, and they need eradicating. We're not saints, but by comparison, we're angels." He shook his head. "I don't want my kid growing up in a world where they rule the roost."
I leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I love you."
"I love you too."
The ease in which he uttered those words made my pussy flutter.
I looked into his eyes. "We'll make it happen."
He squeezed my thigh, this time with the intention to show gratitude, not to tease.
It was oddly impactful to have my body on red alert while my brain was focused on what he wanted. It was like looking in two different directions with each eye—should've been impossible, but the impossible was possible around this man.
I moved my chair closer to him, needing to be nearer even if it was only a difference of a couple inches, and he rumbled, "I should have ordered take-out."
"What? Why?"
"Then we'd be in our dining room and you'd be naked and sitting on my knee."
A blush turned my face pink as I admitted, "I'd have preferred that."
He replaced his knife on the dish and raised a hand.
The maître d' made short work of arriving at our table, squawking, "Is everything okay, Mrs. O’Donnelly? Sir?"
"It's lovely," I assured him, appreciating that he asked me first.
"We'd like this to go," Aidan ordered.
As he retreated with the dishes himself, I murmured to my husband, "I don't think he's used to serving."
Aidan just snorted. "With the amount of money we invested in this place, the chef himself should be bringing out our plates."