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I brought my hand up and stroked her hair. “Don’t ever apologize for getting pregnant with my child. I do believe it was meant to be.”
“You believe in that stuff?” Her brow arched.
“I didn’t before, but I do now.” I smiled. “Can you come to my office tomorrow? I want to show you it. I had it repainted, put up new artwork, and bought all new furniture.”
“I’d love to see it.” She grinned.
“That office will be our child’s one day.”
“Only if he or she wants to be a part of the company,” she said.
“I can’t wait to find out the gender. We’ll be able to find out at the next ultrasound, right?” I asked.
“I really don’t want to find out. I want it to be a surprise when I give birth.”
“As horrific as that sounds, we need to plan for the child with the right colors and furniture. That all depends on whether it’s a boy or a girl. Don’t you want to decorate in either blue or pink? Knowing beforehand will allow?—”
She leaned over and placed her fingers on my lips.
“You’re having anxiety over not knowing, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Stella. I am. I admit it.”
“Okay, Miles. We’ll find out before the baby is born.”
“Well, it’s your decision too. I mean, if you really want it to be a surprise.”
“You hate surprises, and I respect that. We’re finding out what gender our baby is at the next ultrasound. Now, shut up.” Her lips pressed against mine.
I rolled her on her back and hovered over her.
“I love you.” I stared into her beautiful green eyes.
“I love you, too.” She smiled as my mouth smashed into hers.
* * *
“Good morning, Isla.” I grinned as I set a coffee from Starbucks on her desk.
Her brows furrowed. “You bought me a coffee?”
“I did.” I strolled into my office.
“What’s going on with you?” she asked, walking in.
“I’m a happy man. Stella, my girlfriend, is back home with me.”
“You mean your ex-wife.” She smirked.
“Knock it off.” I pointed at her. “We’re starting over. In fact, she’s coming in today to see my new office. Call the florist and have a dozen, no, make it two dozen red roses sent to the penthouse. I want the card to say: I love you. Love forever, Miles.”
Isla stood there, furrowing her brows.
“What?” I asked, picking up the picture of my baby and staring at it.
“You’ve never had me send flowers to anyone unless they died.”
I shrugged. “No one has ever been worthy. In fact, I want you to set up weekly deliveries. Schedule them for Fridays. Different colors each time.”
