“Sorry. I was just trying it out.”
“It’s good to experiment and I’m up to try most things, but the daddy kink doesn’t do it for me. Is that okay with you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“See, so much better.”
“Okay, note to self, no calling Bear, daddy.”
I start chopping the salad, noting Rogue’s eyes fixated on the bowl I was filling like she was desperate to leap face first into it. I pushed it over and she picked out a chuck of tomato, moaning as she bit into it.
“Honestly, we might need a code word, so I know it’s you because right now you’re freaking me out with your salad adoration.”
She ate some cucumber next before more tomato, the smile spreading across her face with each mouthful.
“Bear, can I ask you a question?” She jumped down off the bar stool she was sitting on, walking around the kitchen island, and taking the knife out of my hand, placing it on the counter.
“If you don’t like being called daddy, what will this one call you?”
She took my hand and pressed it to her belly. For a moment, I didn’t understand the question, and then it hit me. The salad, the sickness, how sensitive her nipples were earlier.
“What?” The word slipped from my lips, but it was so quiet that I wondered if I’d actually said it.
“We’re having a baby, Matt. In here right now is a tiny little person who is going to grow and be born and steal our sleep and ruin our sex life and make us the happiest people on the planet.”
My heart raced. “Really? I mean, you’ve done a test? When did you find out?”
“That phone call. That was the doctor. When you went away, I felt awful. It’s why everyone came to stay. I was freaking out. I couldn’t stop being sick. I was dizzy as hell and all I wanted to eat was bloody salad. That was the worst bit… I mean salad for God’s sake.” Speechless I stared down at where my hand pressed to her belly.
“Emmy asked if I could be pregnant. It hadn’t even crossed my mind. We’ve only been trying for a few months. I thought with the shooting and my scarring it would take forever. It’s not like one of us could go buy a test, so I called the doctor who came and did a blood test this morning that confirmed I’m pregnant. Six weeks apparently, which means he or she is a honeymoon baby, which makes sense as we had sex at least 411 times over those two weeks, although I’m sure it was our wedding night because well, just because that’s an epic story to tell our grandkids.
I slumped down onto the stool behind me, the air suddenly feeling really thin. I kicked off my shoes and pulled my t-shirt over my head, feeling like I was overheating and about to hyperventilate.
“I knew this would happen. I knew the roses and this would be too much. Don’t you dare freak out on me and run, Bear. I swear to God, I will hunt you down and take out your kneecaps.”
I tried to focus and pull myself together, but I couldn’t find any words. Instead, I pulled Frankie to me, pushing my hand under her top, pressing it to her belly again.
She didn’t say anything more. She just wrapped her arms around me and held me while I let the news sink in.
“We’re having a baby?” I said as much to myself as to Frankie.
“We are. Are you okay?”
“Yes. No. Fuck. I’m terrified.”
“Me too,” she confessed. “I mean, my body has been torn apart and put back together. I have no idea how to be a mum. I feel like crap and I have another seven and a half months to go and we’ve only just got married. I need you, Bear. I can’t do this if you’re going to fall apart.”
And she was right. I could panic. I could go through all thewhat if’s. I could worry that every creaking floorboard was a murderer about to take my family from me again or a psycho fan come for my wife, or I could step up and be the husband she needed. The foundation, her safe place, the one to hold her hand and reassure her that everything would be okay.
I stood up, lifting her onto the counter. Cupping her face, I stared at her wide eyes and the tears that pricked at the corners. “I am not going anywhere, Rogue. Not now. Not ever. I just needed a moment, but fuck, we’re having a baby and you are going to be an amazing mum.”
“Thank you… that’s what I needed to hear.”
I kissed her softly. “Now, do you want steak?”
“No, I want salad and pickled onions. What is this child doing to me?”
I lifted Rogue’s top and pressed kisses against her scars, whispering a lifetime of promises to the baby growing in there and to my wife for giving me the best gift of all; her love.