Page 38 of Sin Wagon
We head down to dinner together. I’m in the same clothes I had on from earlier since I didn’t wear them much, but Delilah changed into actual clothes; much to my dismay.
Her mint green summer dress with cap sleeves fits her belly perfectly, accentuating her naturally curvy figure. I did convince her to put sandals on, because the crazy woman was trying to put heels on instead. Her feet are swollen and sore, and she wants to wear the most impractical footwear.
Holding hands, we step into the elevator, and as soon as the doors slide shut; I catch Delilah’s eye, and in one swift motion, I pin her against the elevator wall. My lips find hers, kissing her deeply, passionately. Her fingers dig into my shoulders, leaving a faint imprint. And for a moment, the world outside ceases to exist.
Delilah’s laughter fills the elevator as it slows to a stop, and she pushes me back with a playful shove.
“What was that about?” she teases.
“Can’t do that at dinner. At least not until they know,” I say. “If they ask, we ran into each other in the lobby.” I'm hoping to create an alibi for earlier.
“Okay.” She nods, her smile wavering slightly as her eyes dart nervously around the space.
I give her a quick peck on the lips, then straighten my shirt just as the elevator doors slide open. The lobby is bustling with people, but all I see is her. As she glides toward the restaurant, I can’t help but notice the confident sway of her hips.
Delilah and I step into the restaurant. The warm and ambient lighting illuminates the tables, creating a comforting and inviting atmosphere. The air was alive with the soft sounds of conversation and the delicate clinking of glasses and cutlery. My family sits at a large round table near the window, already enjoying the breathtaking view of the beach skyline. Jonas spots us first, his face instantly lighting up with a wide grin as he rises to his feet.
“Delilah, I’m glad you came,” he says warmly, closing the distance between them to embrace her in a tight hug.
Delilah smiles back, her eyes shimmering brightly. “I told you I would,” she replies, taking the seat next to my mom.
My mom’s eyes dart back and forth between Delilah and me, brimming with curiosity. “Did you two come together?” she asks.
“We ran into one another in the lobby,” I reply smoothly, sitting next to my brother.
Our water glasses are swiftly filled by the server, who then proceeds to take our drink orders with a warm smile. We all peruse the menu, making small talk about the vacation so far, skillfully avoiding the topic like well-trained ballerinas. As my mom shares stories from my childhood, Delilah leans in with genuine interest, her eyes lighting up with a teasing glimmer whenever our gazes meet.
Once our orders are placed, my parents bombard Delilah with questions. She handles the rapid-fire interrogation with grace, maintaining a serene smile as she patiently answers each one. With an infectious smile, her laughter echoes through the air. My parents are clearly charmed, and Jonas seems thoroughly impressed. I watch her, feeling a surge of pride. My family loves her. Of course, they do—she’s family too, but I can’t think of her like that.
She’s mine. My woman. My child’s mother. My Little Doe. Mine.
Our food arrives, and as I take my first bite, my dad shifts the conversation to the baby.
“So, Delilah, I know you said you had things to figure out with the baby’s father.”
Delilah hums softly in acknowledgment, her attention fully devoted to her food. “Yeah.”
“Do you need a lawyer?” he asks, his tone serious and cautious.
“For what?” she responds, looking up.
“Child support.”
“No need,” she stammers, her voice quivering, her eyes darting nervously in my direction before snapping back.
“Do you have any names picked out?” my mom gushes, leaning in with interest.
“I do have some thoughts, but I think it’s best to share them with the father first before revealing them. He should know my choices before I tell anyone else.”
A surge of primal possessiveness courses through me as my cock twitches in response. She’s thinking about us, about our future.
“Well, make sure you don’t give the child the father’s last name. Not unless he plans to be there and agrees to childsupport. Otherwise, he has rights and if he’s going to be a deadbeat, he doesn’t deserve you or that child,” my dad lectures.
My body tenses up as rage surges inside me, my heart pounding in my chest, as I glare at my dad. I know he doesn’t have any clue he’s talking about me, but he is. No fucking way do I plan to be anything but the best father that baby could ever have.
“I think Baby Covington sounds good,” I snap, my voice laced with irritation as I clench my fists, feeling the heat rise in my face.
Delilah gasps, her breath escaping in a high-pitched squeak, causing my brother to turn his attention to her and then to me.
