Page 2 of Wild Then Wed
“You’re so dramatic.”
“And you’re so wrong.”
She turned around slowly, her expression neutral except for the flicker of amusement in her eyes. “I’m carrying your child. Are you sure you want to keep arguing with me?”
“I didn’t realize we were arguing. I thought I was right and you were just busy ignoring it,” I said, sorting through a handful of screws that all looked the same but apparently weren’t. “And what if she sweats through her clothes during her naps or something?”
Julia let out a snort and leaned her head against the window frame.“She’s not going to sweat through her clothes, Sawyer.”
“She’s a baby. She doesn’t get a say.”
“She’smybaby, which means she’ll be fine because I’m always right.”
That got a laugh out of me. Quiet and low, but real.
Julia walked back over, the T-shirt catching at her thighs. She looked down at me with a smirk. “You wanna know what I think?”
“Unfortunately.”
“I think you like arguing with me.”
I sat back on my heels, gave her a once-over. “Idolike when you get all hot and bothered. Makes me wonder what else I can get you worked up about.”
She laughed—head tipped back, the sound echoing off the lavender walls like she didn’t care that it was late or that her ankles were swollen or that we were sitting in the middle of a half-finished nursery.
And God, she was beautiful when she laughed. Hair falling into her face, eyes bright, full lips parted. That round belly stretching the front of my shirt in a way that should’ve looked ridiculous, but didn’t. It looked like everything I didn’t know I wanted until she gave it to me.
She caught me staring and grinned. “Is this some weird version of foreplay?”
“If it is, I’ve never been so into home improvement.”
She rolled her eyes again, but her cheeks flushed as she looked at me. “You’re terrible.”
“You married me anyway.”
She shook her head, smiling because she knew she didn’t regret a damn thing. And for a second, she looked so at ease—like she’d finally exhaled after holding her breath all day.
That’s when I looked at her again. Really looked.
She was so fucking beautiful it hurt sometimes. And not in that overdone, poetic way. Just in the simple, gut-level truth of it.
She looked like home. Shewasmy home.
“Come here,” I said.
She pushed off the wall with a sigh, waddled over, and dropped down next to me on the nursery floor with zero grace.
“I’m gonna need you to help me up later,” she muttered as she shifted closer and leaned into me.
“Not a chance. We both live down here now.”
She elbowed me gently, then rested her head on my shoulder, her hand settling over her belly. “Who do you think she’ll look like? Because I actually think there’s a good chance she could look like me. With the dark features and all.”
I nodded. “She better.”
“She’ll have your nose.”
“She’ll have your mouth. Your laugh. Probably your temper.”
