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“The tattoo you inked on me isn’t enough?”
He considers it for a moment. “I guess not.”
“You’re growing more possessive, Severio.”
He smiles. “I’m evolving, my queen.”
“Yeah, into a territorial, possessive husband.”
He dips his head and pierces me with those killer blue eyes. “Sue me.”
I sigh because Severio won’t change his mind about me cleaning up, and we really are late.
He opens the door for me, and I walk out, but halt at the stroller parked sideways on the pathway leading up to the west side of the house.
“Weird. Someone left their stroller in our yard.” I descend the steps and walk around the thing and notice there are tags on it. It’s brand-new. I try to push it out of the way, but it’s not moving. I search for one of those brakes I’ve seen mothers use with their feet to park the strollers. Oh, there it is. I unlock it, push it out of the way, then lock it again.
When I look up, Severio’s standing just outside the door with his hands in his pockets, looking uncomfortable. I know that look, though this time, it’s followed by another look. Smothering heat that makes me blush all over.
I brush it off. I’m probably just horny because I got him off. I’m sure he’ll make me come sometime later when I’m so bothered, I’d beg for a single finger, not to mention his cock.
But his gaze drifts to the stroller and stays there. It has something to do with the stroller.
“Did you buy this stroller?” I ask. “Is it ours?”
My mother comes out, pushing her hands through the sleeves of a beige beach dress to cover up her bathing suit. “What’s going on?” Her eyes dart between us before she spots the stroller.
“Oh my God, are you pregnant?”
My hands cover my mouth as my mother rushes down the stairs to hug me.
“My baby girl is pregnant.” My mom’s happy for me. She moves away and examines the stroller, then gapes. “How far along?”
“Mom, I… Severio?”
My husband prowls down the stairs and over the path, his expression impartial, but I know it’s a mask hiding his feelings about the pregnancy. I can’t be pregnant, can I? Wait, I am late. Not by much, but my period is late. I haven’t been late since I got on the pill to regulate my painful cycles. And since I’m on the pill, I can’t be pregnant, can I?
“You are pregnant,” he announces. “About four weeks now, so still early, but they confirmed by blood when you were in the surgery.”
“Surgery?” I ask. “That was two weeks ago.”
Severio winces and looks away. “I wanted you to hear it from me and when the time was right.”
“You’ve known this entire time?”
He nods.
I grip the stroller, debating whether I’m allowed to be mad at him or if I should just be happy I’m pregnant. I decided not to sweat the small stuff either. “You stole my line.” I smile. “Hey, husband, I’m pregnant. That’s my line.” I walk up to him and wrap my arms around his waist, pressing my cheek to his chest. His heart beats faster than normal.
Strong arms hug me. “You’re not mad I didn’t tell you?”
“You’re teaching me not to sweat the small stuff. That’s small stuff.”
Severio chuckles. “I couldn’t predict how you’d react. It’s been eating at me for weeks. I didn’t know if you’d be happy, if you wanted kids now or later. It… The uncertainty of it drove me crazy, but the time to tell you never seemed right.”
“Why is the time right now?”
“Because,” he says, “today, I’m ready to show you the property I bought you. It’s yours. Only yours. Not mine. Not for the Order. And I figured if you’re mad at me for not telling you about our baby when I first found out, you’d forgive me when I showed you what I bought you.”
