p1g6ohttq31e6p1372uo1120t1gfg4

Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.” Surprise tinged with hurt bloomed in my chest.

“That bad?” From what I remembered, our first meeting had been fairly standard. I’d said a total of two words to him. “No.” The word was a rough caress against my skin. “That good.”

I laughed softly. “Only for you, Butterfly.”

“I was right all those years ago,” she murmured. “You, Christian Harper, are a softie at heart.”

“I don’t care. They could scream and cry all they want, and they’d still be like their mother.” I brushed her lips with mine. “Perfect.”

“Does that mean you’re happy?” Stella asked hopefully when we broke apart.

My laugh was rough with emotion. “Of course I’m happy, sweetheart. How could I not be?”

We were going to be parents. I was going to be a father, and I was going to see Stella swell with our child. A little boy, perhaps, with curls and brown skin. Or a little girl with her mother’s green eyes and sweet smile.

Pregnant. Babies. Our baby.

“I didn’t want to tell you in front of the others, but I also couldn’t wait anymore.” Stella’s voice lowered. “Christian, I’m pregnant.”

“You’re pregnant,” I repeated.

“It’s been five minutes, Mrs. Harper,” Christian drawled. “Are you going to make your husband wait even longer for a kiss?”

Even after three years of marriage, that smile never failed to make my heart flutter.