Page 115 of Wicked Spite
“Your charm knows no bounds,” I retort, sauntering over to the bed. I tear the tape away and flip open the flaps. Inside are... miniature bat slippers? Exact match to Billy and Stu but like twelve times as small. What the actual?—
“What the fuck are these?” I say, pulling them out and holding them up like they’re radioactive. “I swear to fuck if you got us a dog, I’m going to lose it.”
“You’re an idiot,” Reagan says, walking out of the bathroom, her eyes narrowing. “If they were for a dog, there’d be four. There are two small slippers in your hand. What the fuck else wears slippers?”
“Uh...” My brain churns slowly, gears grinding as I try to piece together what she’s implying. And then it hits me like a freight train. Pregnant. She’s fucking pregnant. Cause a baby has two fucking feet to fit into these cute as shit replicas of my size thirteens.
“Are you serious?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
Reagan just stares at me with a raised eyebrow.
My jaw nearly drops. I’m stunned, completelyfloored. “Pregnant?” I repeat like a dumbass, staring at the slippers as if the wings will animate and fly off.
“Yeah, genius. Pregnant,” she confirms, crossing her arms over her chest.
I let out a breathy laugh, more out of shock than anything else. “Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.”
“How?” I ask, my voice louder than intended.
“I know you know how the fuck someone gets pregnant. I’m not giving you a sex ed class.” I smirk at that.
“I mean I wouldn’t be opposed if you wanted to be the hot teacher and I’ll be the bad boy she keeps giving detention.” I wiggle my eyebrows at her because fuck yeah, I can get behind that roleplay.
“It’ll be a Catholic school, so I can beat you with a ruler because you are insatiable.” I roll my eyes because she knows I would love that.
“When did you find out?” I blurt out, my mind racing in a thousand different directions. “How far along are you? And why the hell didn’t you tell me sooner?”
Reagan stands there, just staring at me like she’s humoring a child throwing a tantrum. “You done rambling, asshole?” she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
“Seriously, Reagan,” I insist, my voice rising. “I need some answers here.”
“Calm your shit, psycho,” she snaps back. “I literally just found out today. Went to get my fucking B12 shot from the doctor, and they do a physical, which includes a urine test. Imagine my fucking surprise when they tell me I’m pregnant. Not just pregnant, but pregnant pregnant. Like twelve fucking weeks pregnant—ten, but apparently, they count two extra weeks or some bullshit. I don’t know. I tuned the doctor out after hearing the word ‘pregnant.’”
“Wait, a second...” I start counting back on my fingers. Twelve weeks... that would be—“Holy fuck!” Realization hits me like a punch to the gut. I grab her by the waist, pulling her close. “You’re my pregnant wife,” I murmur against her lips, not giving her a chance to respond before claiming her mouth in a heated kiss.
“Yeah, I suppose I am. Congratu-fucking-lations, we have a parasite among us.”
“Fuck,” I whisper harshly as I break away, staring at her face and memorizing each inch of her. “I told you I was going to knock your ass up one day. Couldn’t wait for my little mini hellfire, and now it’s happening.”
I’m trying to wrap my head around the fact that we’re going to be parents. Fucking parents.
“It could be a little psycho, ya know?”
She softens, her usually guarded demeanor melting away as she leans into me. “Well, the odds were fucking against us, but guess my little Russian roulette played off. Doesn’t matter what our little parasite is, they’re ours,” I say, a smirk curling at my lips.
“Penn,” she murmurs, her voice surprisingly tender for once.
“Yeah, baby?” I reply, my hand sliding down to rest protectively over her still-flat abdomen.
“Just shut up and kiss me again.”
I grin like a madman, a rare softness infiltrating the edges of my smirk. I give her another peck on the lips before breaking away, an idea forming in my head. Without another word, I drop to my knees in front of her.
Reagan’s eyes widen as she watches me. “What the hell are you doing?”
Ignoring her, I gently lift her shirt, exposing her smooth,pale stomach. I press my lips against the skin, feeling its warmth, and close my eyes for a moment. When I open them, they’re fixed on that unseen life growing inside her.
“Hey there, mini hellfire,” I begin, my voice uncharacteristically soft and tender. “It’s your daddy here.”
