Page 88 of The Last Thing
Wilson’swarm hand rubs over my stomach as we lie in bed.
He held me all night. We fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms and we both slept so hard I don’t think either of us moved.
We’ve spent the last half hour lying in each other’s arms and talking. Kissing. Being a couple.
Telling my parents we were dating was never a lie. I know that’s what we’ve been doing for weeks, even if I’ve been too afraid to call it that. Last night put a lot of things into perspective.
Am I still terrified of what falling in love means? Absolutely. But I’m done trying to stop it from happening. I’ll just have to prepare myself to face the consequences one day.
“I love your little bump,” he whispers, brushing his thumb over my slightly raised belly button. “I can’t wait to watch it grow.”
“Me either.”
I brush my knuckles over his cheek, drawing his eyes to mine.
“Do you want more kids?”
He stares at me for a second. “I’m going to say this, but don’t take it the wrong way. You need to hear everything first.”
“Okay.”
“The night we met, I was thinking how Sophia has been saying she wanted a sister, and how I couldn’t even consider it. There was too much change and too much going on to even think about the idea. Then you told me you were pregnant, and after the initial shock wore off, all I felt was joy. I realized it was never about not being ready for another kid, it was that I’d convinced myself I couldn’t have that. Or wouldn’t. Now I know exactly how much I want it. And I wouldn’t mind having more.” He slides his hand up and plays with a strand of my hair. “What about you?”
“Being a mom was always my dream. I imagined using the turkey baster method to get there and probably only having one—maybe two. But…” I clear my throat. “With the right person, I’d love to have more.”
I can see it. Us in a cute little house like the one he grew up in, Sophia and a couple more kids playing in the backyard while Wilson rubs my round stomach as we watch from the back porch.
It’s overwhelming, but there’s no denying I want it.
I’ve never been more scared to want something in my life. To dream of it and hope for it.
Hope.
After what Wilson said about his dad last night, that word keeps dancing around in my mind.
I’m scared, but I’m letting hope guide me. I’m letting my heart lead, and I’m trying to ignore the devastation that could cause.
“With the right person?” Wilson rumbles.
I sweep my hand over his cheek. “Like a super hot baby daddy named after a back porch.”
He throws his head back and laughs.
I love that laugh—the pure joy that spills out of him. That side of him is as endearing as it is fun.
“I thought we agreed you’d call me Wilson.”
“And I am. But in the back of my mind, I’ll always remember the ridiculous name you gave me the night we met. Oh, maybe we should name our baby Patio. No. Terrace.”
“Hellion…”
“I like when you get growly.”
His lips slant over mine, and my body hums with desire. Not for sex, but for him. To be close to him.
“Do you have any serious names in mind for the baby?” he asks after he breaks our kiss.
“Maybe. We’ll see when we find out what we’re having.”
