Page 41 of Wrong Number, Right Lion

My mate got under the covers and peppered kisses over my belly. “Of course, but you get to stay in bed, and I do all the preparation.”

I liked the sound of that. It was my kind of special. “Yes, please. Can you do it now or do I wait?”

Kalen stuck his head out from under the covers. “It’ll take about thirty minutes, but we can start with fresh orange juice or a hot chocolate.”

“Can I have both?” I was thirsty, having slept the day away, and besides, I was being treated, so I was allowed to crave food.

Kalen slipped under the bedding again and spoke to my bump. “Your daddy wants both. Should we give them to him?”

Our little one kicked. Perfect timing. “The baby says yes.”

“What the baby asks for, the baby gets.”

My mate leaped out of bed and returned in a few minutes with a tray. Freshly squeezed orange juice, a huge mug brimming with hot chocolate topped with marshmallows, and a vase with a rose in it and a napkin.

There was also a note written in his handwriting.

I love you.

He pulled down the blinds and closed the curtains before lighting candles around the room. I hadn’t noticed them untilnow, and he’d entwined fairy lights over the dresser and around the mirror. Flickering light was so romantic as I took alternate sips of my hot and cold drinks.

I couldn’t wait to see what else Kalen was doing after he plumped pillows behind my back and dashed out of the room. The door was closed, so I couldn’t smell anything cooking, but I hoped it was something yummy.

Before I could finish the juice, food began to arrive. “This is your ‘Eat Breakfast or Brunch in the Afternoon’ date.”

A platter with pancakes, waffles, and French toast was placed on a trolly beside the bed. Around the platter were plates of eggs, hash browns, and bacon. I wanted all of it, and Kalen dished a bit of everything onto a plate, and I tucked in. He sat beside me with half the amount of food I had.

But despite my plate piled high, I side-eyed Kalen’s hash browns after I’d demolished mine. “You aren’t going to eat all those, are you?”

With his spoon piled high, he fed me his remaining crispy potatoes, saying he’d made them this morning and also prepped the ingredients for the other dishes, which was how he’d been able to make the food so quickly.

“I love an all-day breakfast. Breakfast should be the only meal of the day.” I drank the last of my hot chocolate and licked around my mouth.

“Is the short-order cook allowed to kiss the customer and lick off the remaining marshmallow?”

I twisted my head one way and the other while staring upward. “I’ll consider it.” After waiting three seconds, I added, “I’ve thought about it and yes.”

Kalen planted his lips on mine, and his tongue slid over my mouth, hoovering up the yumminess. Maybe I was in the mood for a blow job, but there was another slice of French toast on the tray, and it was mine!

After we ate the fruit and I rubbed my belly, hoping our little one was pleased with the feast, Kalen grabbed his tablet and mine, plus some note paper and pens.

“Is this supposed to be a shopping list?” In cooking up a storm, the fridge and pantry were probably bare.

“If you agree, I thought it might be nice to write letters to our baby.” He gave me a look as if waiting for my approval. “But it’s just a suggestion.”

“I love that.” He held up both a tablet and the note paper. “The paper.” I hardly used a pen and paper these days. Everything was digital, but I wanted our child when they were old enough to hold the paper and rub their fingers over the indentations my pen had made, the same pen I’d held.

“But should we keep our letters secret?” I was torn, wanting to share what I’d written with Kalen but also thinking it would be a nice surprise to read it at the same time as our child.

“We don’t have to decide now. Let’s write them and put them away and see how we feel in the coming days and weeks. Our little one won’t be reading them for years.”

My pen hovered over the paper as Kalen scribbled one page, a second, and third.

“What are you writing? An encyclopedia?” I was failing at being a dad and the baby wasn’t here yet.

“Love, it’s not a competition.” He blew me a kiss. “I was thinking about this all day while you were asleep.” He draped an arm over my shoulder and drew me close. “The baby might look at what I wrote and say, ‘That’s it?’”

We shared a laugh, and I put pen to paper.

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