Charlotte?
“No way…” I snap my lips shut, thinking of the few times we’ve had sex without protection.
Okay, the many times. I’m a careless asshole who can’t control himself around the woman he married. So sue me.
Meaning, it’s definitely possible.
“It’s none of my damn business, but do you wear a condom? She on some sort of birth control?” Winston asks.
“Yeah.” I nod, not wanting to admit that sometimes I get caught up in the moment and slip right inside of her welcoming body. There is nothing better than fucking my woman with nothing between us. Just skin on skin.
“It’s not always foolproof,” he says.
“No, it’s not.” I imagine her pregnant. Her belly swelling with my baby. Her face turning round, her cheeks rosy as she waddles all over the place, blaming me for her condition, but always good-naturedly. She would be a beautiful pregnant woman. I can envision it now…
I have no idea what it’s like to be pregnant, nor have I spent much time with pregnant ladies, but I’ve watched movies. I’ve seen what happens.
Holy. Shit.
“You should talk to her once in a while instead of fucking her all the time. See if she could be,” Winston suggests, his tone dry.
I slowly shake my head, trying to comprehend the seriousness of this. The joy bubbling inside of me.
A baby. A pretty little blonde baby girl who looks just like her mama but is devilish like her daddy.
Shit.
We’re young, we’ve only been together a couple of months, tops, but we can handle it. Right? And we definitely don’t have the most conventional marriage going on, but our mothers would be happy as shit. Even if Charlotte’s mom isn’t talking to her currently.
I scowl. The Lancasters drive me out of my ever lovin’ mind sometimes.
“Well damn. You actually look excited by the possibility that you’re going to be a daddy,” Winston says, his voice full of disbelief.
My gaze cuts to his. “Would it be so bad, having a baby?”
Winston shudders, as if what I just said he found completely distasteful. “Trust me. You’re not ready. You don’t even like children.”
“I’d like them if they’re mine,” I point out.
He scowls. “Having a child isn’t easy. Especially when they’re infants. They’re so damn needy, too squirmy and they cry all the time. And when they’re not crying, they’re eating. And when they’re not eating, they’re shitting themselves. No thanks.”
I burst out laughing. “That’s only for a short amount of time. You get to cuddle them and wrap them up in blankets. Make them wear silly hats. You pat their backs and make them burp. Might be fun.”
“Or they spit up on you and ruin your fifteen-thousand-dollar suit,” Winston mutters, glancing down at himself and brushing a piece of invisible lint from his lapel.
I’m sure he speaks from experience.
“Mom will be thrilled.”
“What? That her golden child is giving her a golden grandchild? She might revert and shit her pants with joy,” Winston says.
I send him a look. “That’s disgusting.”
He shrugs. “Wouldn’t be surprised. Anyway, I think you need to have a nice little chat with wifey. That could be the reason for her mood swings and the lack of appetite.”
That reminds me of what he said earlier. “I didn’t even know she was throwing up. She never told me.”
She hid that from me, and I don’t like it.