Page 107 of Wicked Love

When her name is called, the nurse does a double take when she sees me next to Poppy, but fortunately, she recovers quickly.

“Oh, hello,” she says warmly.

We’re led back to the exam room and Dr. Talbot walks in and introduces herself to me. She asks Poppy a few questions and before I know it, Poppy is on the cushioned table, pulling up her shirt just enough for the ultrasound wand. I stand beside her, heart pounding so hard I’m sure the doctor can hear it. When there’s a steady, quiet drumroll sound, Poppy gasps.

“That’s your baby’s heartbeat,” Dr. Talbot says.

Poppy’s eyes shine and I lean down, pressing my forehead lightly against hers. I’m not sure what to say, I’m too overwhelmed with relief, fear, wonder…it jumbles in my chest. Her hand finds mine and I exhale a shaky breath.

“Your baby is the size of a plum,” Dr. Talbot says.

She talks about measurements and due dates, but all I can focus on is the warmth of Poppy’s hand.

This is real. We’re doing this.

We do CVS testing, a diagnostic test that identifies Down Syndrome. It’s mostly to help alleviate my concerns. I know there’s no way to know one hundred percent what you’re dealing with when having a baby, but I want to be prepared as much as possible.

“We’ll rush these results and let you know within the week,” Dr. Talbot says.

“I appreciate that,” I tell her gratefully.

When we leave, Poppy’s still glowing, and I’m walking on a cloud. Mostly. There’s a familiar knot that never fully goes away, the pile of fears I can’t seem to shake. Sometimes after I’ve spent the evening with Poppy—we’ve cooked together or tangled ourselves in the sheets late into the night—I drive home and climb into bed thinking about the way Adriane left without a backwards glance. I don’t miss Adriane. I don’t want to ever see the woman again. But the fear grips me: what if Poppy does the same? What if I can’t handle fatherhood again, with a newborn on top of being a good dad to Becca? What if I’m not enough?

“Hey, where did you go?” Poppy asks.

I look at her, see the softness in her eyes, remember the gentle press of her forehead against mine when we heard the heartbeat, and it’s like the tension unravels. She’s different. We’re different. I’m…happy. Happy in a way I’ve never been.

“You make me happy, Wicked Stella,” I say.

Her eyes crinkle when she laughs. I’ve been calling her that since Easter with her family and it never fails to crack her up.

“You make me happy too,” she says.

“I texted Mom and Mrs. McGregor before we left the clinic, asking if we could all have dinner together tonight.”

“Perfect,” she says. “Should we head right there?”

She licks her lips and I stare at her mouth, squeezing her thigh. “How about we stop at your place first? Celebrate a little on our own first.”

“I love this plan.”

Her lips are on mine before I’ve even closed her front door. I clench her waist with both hands, and with her flush against me, I pivot us, pressing her against the wall. My mouth trails against her neck, hot and open, sucking where I feel her heartbeat against my lips. She slides her hands up my neck and into my hair. I love her hands in my hair, love her hands everywhere on me.

“Where do I start with you, little mama?”

She pulls my head down, kissing me. I groan at the contact, her sweet candy lips parting under my tongue. I bunch her shirt in my hands and tug it over her head, tossing it behind me. Her bra is next, my eyes feasting on her gorgeous tits.

I take a step back and just look at her.

“I can’t believe you,” I say in awe. “So fucking beautiful.”

I slide her pants down her legs. She motions for me to get rid of my clothes and then stands demurely against the door, watching as I shuck my pants and shirt. When I stalk toward her again, she flicks her fingers for me to lose the boxer briefstoo. I grin, taking them off and then reach out, tugging her pretty panties down her legs.

I pause and press a kiss on her stomach.

“Hey, little plum,” I say, which makes Poppy laugh.

Then I straighten and brace one hand on the wall and with the other, I trace down her skin, down her breasts and along her stomach. Her nipples are hard and a blush crawls over her neck when I cup my hand over her breast. I can’t resist tasting her and when I suck her nipple, my other hand cups around her ass. I love hearing the way her breath hitches when I do that.

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