Page 147 of Kings Fear No One
Teysha explains that while I was admitted to the hospital, the staff collected blood samples and swabs, which the lab has used for the test. Vaguely, I remember being told by the nurse as she stuck the needle in my veins, but I had been in pain and was distracted by everything else going on, I’d hardly put two and two together.
The technician at the front desk beams up at us as we approach.
“Teysha Baxter,” she says, her finger scrolling on her computer mouse. “Ah, yes. I see you right here. I’ll print your results.”
We stand by listening to the jerky crank of the printer as it stamps ink all across the page. The technician scoops up the sheet of paper and skims what it says to make sure it has the correct information before handing it over.
Teysha takes the sheet with shaking hands. Then she gasps and almost passes out. I know because she bumps into my side, trembling from head to toe. I tighten my arm around her and glance down at the paper.
“It’s a match,” she warbles out. “I-it’s a match?”
The technician gives her a sympathetic smile. “Yes, that’s right. The fetal DNA is in your blood, and we were able to match the DNA profile for the unborn child using Mr. Cutler’s sample. You’re about six, almost seven, weeks along.”
“But I’m showing?” Teysha’s hand falls to her stomach like so many pregnant women tend to do, trying to trace the curve of her belly.
“That little pooch?” The technician churns out a laugh. “That’s smaller than the food bloat I get.”
“But… but if I’m only six weeks along, then that really does mean…” Her watery eyes light up meeting mine. She bursts into happy tears and laughter. “Logan, it really is yours! The baby’s yours!”
Before I know it, I’m laughing too. I’m catching her as she throws herself in my arms, and I give her a joyful spin around in a circle. Setting her on her feet, my arms remain swathed over her hips, holding her only inches away.
We’re lovestruck fools grinning ear to ear at each other like we’ve just been told we’ve won the lottery. For a married couple beginning the rest of our lives, it’s one and the same.
And I couldn’t be more fucking excited.
“How about we go out tonight?” I ask. “On a date to celebrate.”
“A date?” she squeaks before her pretty smile widens. “I would love to.”
37
TEYSHA
We do something we’ve never done before together—we get a little dressed up. Logan digs a shirt I didn’t even know he owned from the bowels of his bedroom closet. It’s made of a quality linen fabric and has short sleeves and buttons. When he shrugs it on over his broad, tattooed shoulders, heat floods me.
He’s never looked more handsome. The slate gray shade works perfectly against his stormy blue eyes, making them darker, more vivid. His normally stern face relaxes as he looks up and catches sight of me watching him.
“Like what you see?” he drawls.
More heat. More attraction flushes over me. I’m suddenly bashful, tilting my head away as if in hopes I can still pretend I wasn’t spying on him.
“I was just checking if you were ready.”
“Not sure. My wife looks so fucking good, I just might need a few minutes to have her to myself.”
A yelp rolls out of me as I’m snatched by the waist toward him. His lips come down on my throat in the next second, peppering kisses up and down the sensitive column. A known weakness of mine, I squirm in his arms and break out into laughter, shoving at his chest.
“Logan!” I gasp.
“You smell like fucking flowers. Have I ever told you that?”
“Many times.”
“Well, I’m telling you again.”
He presses his face into my throat for a long, greedy inhale and even greedier kisses. My hands land on his rock-hard shoulders. Laughter weaves in between my words as I beg him to stop.
“Logan… you said…” I giggle. “You said dinner!”
