Page 70 of His Relentless Angel

I cry out his name, reaching for him as I lean forward and cradle his face to kiss him. “I’m sorry,” I say, panting harder. “I’m sorry for hiding.”

“Don’t ever hide from me again, angel,” he says softly. He presses both hands to my lower back to hold me close. “Not a single, solitary tear or doubt or insecurity. I want them all, you hear me?”

I nod, brushing our lips together. “I hear you, love.”

“Promise me, and keep it.”

“I-I promise.”

And then he fuses our lips together, pumping his hips up and down to fuck me from below. As soon as I tell him I’m close to cumming, he instructs me to sit up and lean back with my hands behind me again. I do it without hesitation, arching my back and moving with him as we both go over the edge into bliss.

Isaiah carries me inside, fully naked, flicking on all the lights in the bathroom when we shower so he can watch me with rapt attention and a hungry gaze as I soap up every part of my body. It’s not until we’re cuddling in bed together that I remember…

Now’s as good a time as any.

“Where are you going, B?”

I pad in and out of the bathroom with a slim white gift box without pulling on a robe, as I might have done just yesterday. I turn on the oil-rubbed bronze and glass scalloped lamp beside Isaiah’s side of the bed before I climb back in under the lightweight burnt orange comforter beside him.

“There’s something else I’ve been hiding,” I say anxiously, handing the box to him. “I was waiting until tomorrow, but…”

He sits up and leans against the padded headboard, putting his glasses on before he takes the box. “What’s this?”

“Open it.” I chew the inside of my cheek when he unrolls the printout I cut in half and silently reads it.

There’s a nervousness to his voice when he says, “Why did you print this out?”

“Take a wild guess,” I whisper with a touch of sarcasm, watching his eyes widen when he picks up what I had nestled in the box beneath the printout.

Isaiah pulls his glasses off to drop them on his nightstand, his hand going limp on the bed. “No fucking way.”

“I’m sorry!” I squeak.

The box, positive pregnancy test, and the printout of vasectomy failure statistics—which Mara’s friend, Penelope, told me to research—go flying in the air when Isaiah whips the comforter off the bed and rolls on top of me. “Is this real life?”

His nose is pressed right against mine, and I grip the back of his neck. “Yes. I’m so sorry.”

“Bailey…my god. Stop saying you’re sorry, angel.”

“So…you’re not mad?”

“Mad at you that my vasectomy failed?” Isaiah breaks out into a joyous smile. “No! This is the best news I’ve heard since I got the damn procedure.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m deadly serious.” Isaiah kisses me breathlessly, slides his arms under me, and pins me to the bed with his body weight.

“But we said we were done having kids.”

“And nature said otherwise.” He sounds pretty pleased by that.

“But what if we have triplets again?” I go faint at the thought…and also his body weight crushing me.

Isaiah finally gets the hint that I can’t breathe when I pat his back, and he wiggles down the bed, kissing me from hip to hip and all over my belly, which will soon start growing round again.

“The odds of having another set of triplets is something outrageous. It’s not going to happen again.” He pauses and looks up. “But if it did…it would be pretty neat to have three boys this time. It would even things up a bit around here.”

“Oh god, don’t jinx us.”

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