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“Off, big guy,” I order, patting my hand on his side, urging him to shift.
As he repositions, he shoots me a warning glance, and I inherently know what he means to say: That cum stays inside you, right where I left it, Julia Winter. Heeding his warning, I lay back against my pillow.
“I love trying for a baby,” he says before he settles into the bed next to me. “I would spend billions to stay in bed with you and do this nonstop.”
“These past three hours haven’t been enough for you?” I question, trying to muster up the energy to shimmy down in the bed and then raise my legs in the air. It’s a stupid old wives tale and I know this won’t help me get pregnant, but I like doing it anyway.
“Not even close,” he replies as he pulls me into his arms, careful not to move my legs because he’s so damn adorable. “You’re so fucking pregnant,” he continues. “I know it. I can sense it. When I got you pregnant with the twins, I knew it.”
“Oh, so you’re a fertility warlock now? You just immediately know when I’m pregnant?”
“I did with the twins,” he insists, doubling down. “And I know today. You’re pregnant with my baby, Julia.” His hand drifts to my bare stomach and he massages it. “You’re going to look so lovely. Tits full, stomach swelling up more every day.” He kisses my shoulder. “I’m already thinking about all the foot rubs I’ll give you and the breakfasts I’m going to cook for you.”
“And where, Mr. Winter, do you think you’re going to be cooking all these breakfasts while you’re on a book tour?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll get a hot plate,” he replies in all seriousness. “But Edith wouldn’t be able to resist it. She’s so grabby these days. I don’t know when it started.”
“In the womb,” I reply. “Remember? I told you I felt like one of the girls was always, like, grabbing my ribs.”
He chuckles. “That defies biology.”
“I don’t give a shit,” I reply, and I begin to roll away.
“Nope,” he says, pulling me back. “Lay down. More fertilizing.”
“Now that defies biology,” I counter. “Plus, if you did get me pregnant today, it was during our first round. That was hours ago.”
Gus’s smile broadens and I know he’s remembering it too. This morning, he held me by my waist and bounced me naked in his lap while my hands were bound with my underwear. It was a bit of a throwback to the first time we made love—in this very same bedroom—except this time I had to keep my screams to a minimum because the girls were still asleep in their cribs down the hall.
“Come on. Davis and Olivia are probably tired of watching the girls. Liliana keeps trying to steal Olivia’s engagement ring. She’s like a little Gollum.”
At the mention of our two-year-old’s obsession with her soon-to-be aunt’s nine-carat diamond engagement ring, Gus’s eyebrow flicks upwards with an idea.
“Oh hell no, August. I know that look. You are not buying our two-year-old daughter a diamond ring.”
“I would get a matching one for Edith so they wouldn’t fight,” he protests.
“Enough.” I laugh as I grab his pajama bottoms from the bedroom floor. “Hurry up and get dressed. I promised Kieran we would have a Scrabble rematch. If he doesn’t beat you at least once before Christmas, he’s going to have a teeny, tiny mental breakdown.”
“Fine, fine. I’m getting dressed.”
He pulls on his clothes and comes to stand behind me while I do my hair in the mirror. He smiles at our reflections before he wraps his arms around me, leaving his hands on my stomach again.
“It worked,” he whispers, his blue eyes bright. “I want it so much, Julia.”
“I know. Me too.”
We head downstairs where Davis and his fiancée Olivia are dutifully reading the Cat in the Hat to Liliana for the hundredth time. Kieran and his wife Quinn are relaxing on the living room floor while our other daughter, Edith, claws at the pages of an old copy of National Geographic. And while a two-year-old would claw at anything, I like to think Edith takes after her mother and may have some healthy wanderlust one day.
When we enter the room, our retriever, King, leaps up and bounds over to Gus, his tongue lolling while he rises on his hind legs. Gus plants an enormous kiss on the top of King’s head, whispering, “There’s my good boy. Daddy’s good boy. So special. You deserve a treat.”
Did I expect my husband, the human equivalent of an arctic gray wolf, to pick a Labrador retriever out of all the dogs in existence?
No. Never. But Gus Winter has surprised me every day for the last four years.
“Kieran, Gus is ready to destroy you in Scrabble. Again,” I announce as I pass through the living room to the kitchen.
“It’s on, old man,” Kieran declares shortly before Gus scoffs loudly, laughing as usual.
