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“So are we not going to talk about the sperm donor in this situation?”
It was at a family dinner a few weeks after I’d told everyone. Cameron held my gaze after Ivy said it, and Ian traded a quick look with his wife, Harlow.
Harlow’s daughter Sage raised her hand. “What’s a sperm donor?”
Ivy grimaced. “Sorry. Maybe I could’ve phrased that differently. Was there a turkey baster involved or an actual human being? Because I’m pretty sure I heard it was the latter.”
Harlow’s eyes widened. “Ivy.”
“Sorry,” she said again. “I’m just asking what everyone’s thinking. Shouldn’t the guy be involved? Or aware?”
Cameron sighed, rubbing a hand over her shoulders. Even with the blunt delivery, I knew Ivy was just worried about me. They all were. But the absolute last thing I was going to do was tell a flat-out lie about the father. Because it was only a matter of time before Jax reappeared—any fucking day would be great—and I couldn’t exactly press my brother on when that would be.
And Dean. Dean was just … weirdly so okay with me being pregnant with another man’s baby that sometimes I questioned whether he was real.
Like I’d conjured him, my phone buzzed on the top of my dresser.
“Good morning,” I said.
“Be a better one if I’d seen you before work, but maybe we can rectify that later.”
The warm, deep sound of his voice had me smiling. “Possibly. How late will you be today?”
Dean hummed, and I heard the click of keys in the background. “I have a block in my afternoon in case I need tohead out to Redmond. One of my client’s horses is due to give birth any time, and her last one didn’t go very well, so I’d like to be there if she starts labor. So I’ll either be done by three today or elbow deep in horse fluids by dinner.”
My nose scrunched. “I really appreciate the visual, thanks.”
His laugh was just like his voice—a soothing comfort bled through even the most stressful of mornings. “You leaving for your appointment soon?” he asked.
“Probably should’ve left five minutes ago, but I can’t decide what to wear.” I tugged at the hem of my shirt. “My burrito baby is looking less burrito and more … baby.”
“You’ll look amazing no matter what you wear,” he answered.
I turned to the side and studied my bump. “I’m going to be huge soon. You might retract that statement when my ankles are the size of my neck.”
He hummed. “Thanks for the visual.”
I laughed. “Will you help me put on my compression socks if that happens?”
“I can’t imagine anything else I’d rather do,” he answered gravely.
With a lingering smile, I shook my head. How many men would find out their girlfriend was pregnant by another man and just … go with it? The night I told him, he asked some questions about the father, and I evaded those like a fucking champ, managing to avoid any outright lies by saying the father wasn’t in town, and he didn’t want a family. He simply hugged me and told me that any child of mine was lucky to have me, and as long as I wanted him around, he wasn’t going anywhere.
Then he kissed me. Dean was a good kisser. He knew when to use tongue and not too much of it. He knew when to kiss sweet and soft and slow. I definitely got butterflies when he kissed with an edge too, like he was holding on by a thread.
And that thread had to beshort. With thehey surprise I’m pregnantannouncement, I was oddly relieved for Dean’s second attempt at virginity. I was too busy puking and feeling like death for the first ten weeks to even consider bedtime activities. The thing he’d done, though, unfailingly, was make me feel beautiful. Supported. And loved.
He hadn’t said it yet, which I was oddly grateful for, but there was no hiding the way he looked at me. Every single day, I prayed to wake up and feel it like a lightning bolt. To feel like,Yes, this sweet, perfect man was it for me, let’s ride off into the sunset together. But so far, it wasn’t so much a lightning bolt of love as a sweet wave of happiness and contentment.
That was good though too, and I knew it.
“Poppy,” my mom called.
“Dean, I gotta go. Sheila’s head is about to explode if we don’t leave.”
He clucked his tongue. “I told you I’d use the wand in my office if you wanted an early ultrasound.”
I snorted. “The same wand you used on the feral, flea-infested cat yesterday?”
