Page 69 of Breathtaking

“Yeah,” Lucky chirps. “Maybe it’s something edible.”

“Have you ever even had sex, you idiot?” I ask through laughter.

“Yeah, shitstain.” Rome smacks the back of Lucky’s head. “He doesn’t need to eat her underwear. Just her.”

I don’t bother telling them I don’t need sexy lingerie to do that.

Just permission.

Permission I haven’t been given yet.

* * *

“Honey, I’m home,” Lennon laughs when she walks in the house later that night. “Oh my God. What smells so good?”

“It’s a family recipe.” I grin once she finally steps into the kitchen. “Can’t tell you or I’d have to kill you.”

Her cheeks flush, and she drops her bags by the door.

“That’s a lot of bags, princess,” I tease and pull two cheeseburgers and truffle fries from the oven. “Hope you’re hungry.”

“Oh my God. You remembered...” She looks like she’s going to cry as I set the plates on the new kitchen table that arrived earlier this week.

“Of course I did.” I grab the ketchup from the fridge and two bottles of water. “I remember everything, Lennon.”

“We had so much fun back then, didn’t we?” she asks, and the hesitance in her voice wrecks me.

“We did,” I agree and pull out a chair at the table for her to sit in. “It was a great two years.”

She pops a fry in her mouth and moans. “Do you remember the first time you made these for me?”

I sit back and watch her eat. “You mean the night you burned spaghetti?”

“How was I supposed to know it wasn’t enough water?” She laughs, and it tugs at places I buried a long time ago.

“I guess it was a good thing you didn’t like me for my cooking skills.” She adds ketchup to her burger and takes a big bite, followed by another moan. Christ. She’s killing me.

“I loved you, Lennon.” I tell her, refusing to allow her to downplay it to anything else. “Walking away was the hardest thing I ever did. But I did it for you. Because that was what you asked me to do.”

“I know,” she whispers before she winces and grabs my hand, then flattens it against her stomach.

“What— Are you okay?” Fear floods my system before her wince turns to a smile, and Lennon pushes down against my palm.

“Feel that?” she asks as she bites down on her lower lip and moves my hand the slightest bit, until something presses back against it. “That. Right there.”

I look from her to her belly. “Is that...?”

Words fail me.

Actually fail me.

“That’s our baby,” she whispers.

LENNON

Life doesn’t allow do-overs.

We can fix our behavior, so we don’t repeat our mistakes,

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