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“Speaking of tomorrow,” I say, avoiding responding to his reaction. “I was thinking that we probably need to tell our parents. If my mom finds out online or in the news that I’m engaged, fake or not, I will never survive the level of dramatics that she will undoubtedly hurl my way.”
He starts laughing. “Oh, is that where you get it?”
I laugh, too. “You could say that.”
“Well, I can’t tell my parents until they either call or they get back from their cruise. And this is not really something I want to tell my mother over the phone because all she’ll hear is engaged and Poppy, and then she’ll lose her damn mind. She’ll have our engagement party planned in two minutes.”
My stomach tightens. “Well, we can’t have that.”
“I mean, we could,” he says, chuckling. “But, yeah, I see your point.”
“I might mention it to my mom tomorrow when I talk to her,” I say, “unless there’s some reason you want to be present for the delivery.”
“No,” he says. “I mean, if you want me there, I absolutely will be there. But if this is something you think you should handle on your own, then handle it. Just let me know if you need anything from me.”
I lift my chin to look in his eyes, and he’s unsurprisingly looking at me. It’s like he knows when I need the contact or when I need the reassurance—or when I just need a little look like this.
Sunny’s breathing evens out, and her pacifier hangs out of her mouth.
I yawn. “I’m getting sleepy.”
“Then go to sleep, babe.”
My eyes are too heavy to stay open, so they flutter closed. “But I’m pretty sure you can’t sleep with a baby in your bed. I’m no expert on the matter, but I’ve heard Layla say this before.”
“That’s probably right.”
“Think about it,” I say, grinning sleepily. “If I rolled over right now, what would happen? And I can imagine that in the next ten minutes, my body will want to find yours, and she’ll be right in the middle.”
“Does your brain ever slow down?”
“Nope,” I say, yawning again.
“I tell you what,” he says, getting comfortable. “Why don’t you go to sleep? And when I finally get tired, I’ll put her back in her bed.”
I open my eyes. “When I fall asleep, you’re not going to go to the couch, are you?”
“Do you want me to?”
“No,” I say honestly. “If I wake up and you’re not in here, I’m gonna be really sad.”
He smiles. “You do know that’s a possibility, right? Because I have to work in the morning, and I have no intention of waking you up if you two are still sleeping.”
“Okay,” I say, feeling myself start to drift away.
“Go to sleep,” he whispers.
“But I feel bad leaving you up while I sleep.”
He kisses my forehead. “It’s okay. I’m afraid that if I go to sleep, I’ll wake up and none of this will be true,” he says, his words barely above a whisper. “I kinda want to stay up and just enjoy it.”
His words fill me with a happiness that, if I were much more awake, I’d probably fight. I’d wrestle with his admission until I figured out how to make it untrue. But I’m too tired, too worn out, to appropriately defend my heart. I just let his words sink into me and fall fast asleep.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
Poppy
