Page 37 of Uxpectedly Ever After

This relationship. Those words light me the fuck up inside. It’s like Christmas up in here right down to my bones. We haven't exactly defined what we are to each other—we’re too busy adjusting to the nuclear bomb that is "surprise, we're having a baby"—but I'm calling it a win that she's stopped insisting we made a mistake. That she’s letting me stay in her bed every night, even if she still pretends I’m technically living on her couch.

That’s Clover for you—stubborn as all hell.

“Speaking of kinks,” I murmur, sliding my hand beneath the blankets, settling it on the warm skin of her hip. “Have I mentioned how unbelievably sexy you are in the morning?”

Both eyes pop open. “We have an ultrasound in an hour.”

"Plenty of time." I counter, flipping our positions so she’s lying flat on the bed and ducking under the covers to press my lips to her stomach. "Morning, Peanut," I whisper against her skin before trailing kisses lower.

Clover's laugh turns into a gasp when I reach my destination. Her fingers tangle in my hair, tugging enough to make my cock throb as I nudge her panties to the side. "You're impossible."

“Mmm, that’s not what you said last night when you were screaming my name.”

"Banks." There's a warning in her voice, but it's undermined by the way her thighs fall open to give me better access.

“Clover.” I match her tone, arching a filthy smirk up the length of her body. “Let me make you feel good.”

She's putty in my hands after that—not that I'm keeping score—and by the time I've made her come twice, once with my mouth and once with my cock buried so deep inside her that I swear I feel my soul connect with hers, we're cutting it dangerously close to being late.

“This is your fault,” she accuses as we tear around the apartment looking for her other shoe. “I told you we didn’t have time.”

“Worth it.” I snag her by the waist as she rushes past, stealing a quick kiss. “The way you look when you come around my cock is my new favorite show. I’d watch it on repeat.”

Her face flushes that delicious shade of pink that makes me want to take her back to bed and start all over again. "You can't just say stuff like that."

"Why not? It's true."

"Because—" She stops, sighs. "Because it makes me want to climb you like a tree instead of going to this appointment."

Navy called it."I'm one hundred percent on board with that plan."

"Banks." She swats my chest, but there's no heat in it. "This is serious. We're actually going to see our baby today."

The reality of her words sobers me right the hell up.Our baby. We're going to see it—him? her?—on a screen. Hear the heartbeat. Make it real in a way that nothing else has.

"Yeah," I say, suddenly just as serious as she is. "We are."

The look we exchange is loaded with everything we haven't said to each other yet. All the fear, the excitement, the absolute terror of stepping into this new chapter together. In that moment, I have a flash of clarity so strong it steals my breath: I want everything with this woman. The whole package. The picket fence, the rings, the happily ever after. Not just because she's carrying my child, but because she's the only person who's ever made me feel like I'm home just by existing.

But telling her that right now would send her running. If there's one thing I've learned about Clover James in the past six months, it's that she's as skittish as a wild animal when it comes to anything that threatens her independence.

So instead, I fish her missing shoe out from under the coffee table, present it with an exaggerated flourish like some knock-off Prince Charming, and say, “Come on, Freckles—let’s go see our kid.”

The waiting room at Dr. Reed Walker’s office is teeming with pregnant women, and I’m trying and failing not to stare. Not gonna lie, it's freaking me out a little, coming face to face with my future.

There’s one that’s gotta be at least six months along—belly sticking out like she swallowed a basketball. Another looks on the verge of popping any second—she can’t sit still for shit, probably because she’s so uncomfortable. Then there’s someone who doesn’t even look pregnant, like Clover, but her hand cradles her stomach in that instinctive, protective gesture that’s a dead giveaway.

Sure, I've seen plenty of pregnant women on calls—shit, I even delivered a baby once—but this is the first time I’m surrounded by them since learning I’ll be a dad.

Will this be us in a few months? It has to be, right? The alternative is unthinkable, and I break out in a cold sweat even at the brief thought something might happen to my baby. And how the hell is Clover's tiny body going to stretch out like that? She's already changing—her tits fuller in my hands, nipples so sensitive she gasps when I barely touch them. The nausea hits her hardest right when her shift at Ember should be starting but it’s there all the time. And she crashes at the most random times, just shuts down and passes out with zero energy left for anything but growing the tiny life inside her.

And it’s my job to protect them both, to do everything in my power to make sure they’re safe.

My knee’s going a thousand miles a minute, bouncing up and down while I pretend to read some parenting magazine I can’t focus on. Meanwhile, Clover’s the picture of calm beside me, scrolling through her phone and scribbling notes in that color-coded planner she carries everywhere and treats like the Holy Grail.

"You're making the whole bench shake," she says without looking up. "What's got you so worked up?"

"Nothing." Yeah, that’s a total lie. I'm freaking the fuck out but I'm not about to admit it. Not when I’m supposed to be here so she can lean on me. I’m trying to show her that I’m always going to show up and she can count on me. Losing my shit at the OBGYN’s office isn’t going to earn me any points toward winning her over and convincing her she needs me in her life.

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