Page 40 of Whiskey & Wreckage

“Still questionable.”

“You’re mine forever, woman. Suck it up.”

I grin despite myself, leaning into his side. “You know, if you weren’t so hot, I’d be filing for annulment.”

“If I weren’t so hot,” he murmurs, kissing my temple, “you wouldn’t have married me in the first place.”

“You’re not wrong.”

He smirks. “I never am.”

I glance down at my belly, where our son kicks again—soft this time, like a nudge. A reminder. A little heartbeat that changed everything. “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” I whisper.

Thomas’s hand finds mine, threading our fingers together. “We’re doing it,” he says. “Together. Whether we’re ready or not.”

I look around at the life we built, messy, loud, beautiful, and I know he’s right. It’s not perfect. It’s better.

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