Page 48 of Ghost's Obsession

“About what?” I ask gently.

He hesitates, then shifts to face me more fully.

“About after,” he says.

My spoon pauses halfway to my mouth.

“After what?”

“After the baby comes,” he clarifies. “After the danger of Carnage. After we’ve got more than just survival on our minds.”

I let the words hang in the air. He’s not rushing me or pressuring me, but he’s clearly thinking about a future—one that includes me.

I lay my spoon on the coffee table and tuck my legs under me. “What do you see our ‘after’ looking like?”

He shrugs one shoulder, almost shy. “Maybe, if you’re interested, you and the baby staying here with me. This house not feelin’ so damn empty all the time. You and me giving this a real go.”

My heart clenches—in the best way possible. Before I can answer, he keeps talking.

“I know it’s early,” he says quickly. “And I’m not trying to lock you in or push you into somethin’. But if it feels right when the time comes—”

“You want to see where it goes,” I cut in, finishing his sentence.

“Yeah.” He rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “That’s all. I just want you to know I’m thinkin’ about what a future with you would look like. And I’m damn interested.”

I lean in and press my palm to his chest. His heart beats steady and strong beneath my hand.

“I like what you’re thinking about,” I whisper.

He cups my cheek, thumb brushing across my skin like he’s memorizing every inch of me.

“Have you ever thought about where we’d put a crib?” he asks, catching me off guard.

I smile and rest my chin on my hands, staring up at him. “What, you’re ready to start nesting already?”

“We should be prepared, right?” He smiles, soft and genuine. “Thought maybe we’d look at the back guest room. It’s quiet, gets good light in the morning, and best of all, it’s right beside the master bedroom. We need to come up with a theme. I was thinking maybe motorcycles would be cool.”

“That could work. But you’re not painting the walls black,” I say with a grin.

“Fine. Are you game for flames on the crib?”

I shake my head. “Probably not gonna work if it’s a girl.”

We’re both feeling light and happy. He stands, tugging my hand.

“C’mon. Let’s go look at the room and see if any ideas pop up.”

We go upstairs, and he leads me to the room beside the master bedroom. We step into the spare room—it’s mostly empty, boxes stacked along one wall, dust in the corners.

But I can see it in my mind’s eye. A crib in the corner, a rocking chair by the window, maybe a changing table along the side wall. “This room would be perfect,” I tell him.

His anxious expression melts into relief. “I’ll start cleaning it out in the morning,” he says.

We stand there in silence, holding hands in the dim light, imagining what could be. Then he turns and kisses me before guiding me to his bed.

All this talk of babies and nurseries has somehow turned my gentle giant on. I can tell—he’s got another gigantic hard-on. But instead of pressing for sex, he pulls the covers over us, tucks me against his chest, and whispers against my hair.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve a chance with you, but I’m not messin’ this up.”

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