Still on one elbow, she stroked his cheek, feeling the dense bone structure like an outward representation of his solid character. She indulged herself with a slow, sweet kiss before whispering, “I love you, Benjamin. More than I can possibly tell you…but I’ll keep trying.”
The rising moon lit his face, showed the warmth in his amber eyes.
Oh, she really, really did love him.
The next sentence required all her courage.
“As to giving me babies?” She took his hand and flattened it on her stomach. “You already did that.”
Fuck, she was cute sometimes. Ben grinned at his woman. “Right.”
She didn’t laugh.
“What?” The import of her words circled inside his head, buzzing faintly, like an insect that couldn’t quite be seen. No, no fucking way could she mean…
She was still holding his hand on her belly.
His voice came out higher, not his at all. Maybe one of those rings had emasculated him. “A baby?”
“Mmmhmm. I’m pregnant.” She sighed. “This wasn’t exactly in my plans.”
“But, you’re on the pill.” He stopped, knowing he was stuttering.
“That first day we were together? I’d spent the previous three days sick with the stomach flu. Throwing up everything, including my pills.”
That was the night he’d started to fuck her without a condom. His fault. “God, I’m sorry, Anne.”
“Not all your fault. Not all mine.” Her hand was still over his. “I’m going to call this the forces of the universe coming together to create a child.”
A baby.
A little tiny life like…like Sophia.
A baby.
His baby.
He’d be a father. The thoughts spun in his head, a whirlwind of shock and…sheer glory.
“Jesus, Anne.” He pulled her down, wrapped his arms around her, tried to express how he felt with his embrace. He laid his cheek on the top of her head. “We’re going to have a baby.”
Her laugh was soft. No, she wasn’t angry with him. Wasn’t unhappy about the baby. She’d had time to get past the shock.
He remembered how she’d held Sophia. How she’d talked to the child at the shelter. How she snuggled with Bronx. Her big heart would easily expand to loving another.
And him? He already loved it—whoever the little one turned out to be. My child. “We need to get married.”
Her shoulders shook with her laugh. “And now who’s moving fast?”
“But…she…he can’t be born without my name. We have to get married. Tomorrow.”
Silence.
He sighed. “All right. Too fast. You want to live together first?”
“I think that might be wise.”
“Got it.” He pulled her closer, if that was even possible. Fuck, he loved this woman. “We’ll get married in two weeks then.”
She smacked the top of his head with her open palm.
Fine. A month.
Chapter Thirty
Anne leaned against the railing of her deck. The day after the storm held a gloriously blue sky and sparkly clean, brine-scented air. Downed palm fronds and piles of seaweed littered the beach, creating challenging obstacles for Harrison’s children as they chased Bronx.
Her niece and nephew thought Ben’s dog was a marvelous toy. Anne knew that Bronx thought exactly the same thing about human children.
Sipping after-dinner wine, Harrison and his wife had positioned themselves near the edge of the deck where they could keep an eye on their offspring.
Both chowing down on seconds of Anne’s chocolate cake, Ben and Travis sat at the adjacent table with her mom and dad.
Her family was a unit, once again.
After talking—and making love—through the night and Sunday morning, she and Ben had invited them over for a Memorial Day gathering.
The late afternoon barbecue would be the perfect venue in which to make her announcement…which she hadn’t managed yet, much to Ben’s amusement.
Well, honestly, she just hadn’t found the right time to introduce a whole new topic of dissension. She studied the group around the table.
Her mother was her usual bubbly self.
Her father…well, Anne had accepted his apology. And what an apology it’d been.
She smiled, thinking of how her parents had arrived last and walked onto the deck. She’d risen, worried at the tentative look on their faces. She’d thought the small box her father carried was candy, his traditional get-out-of-the-doghouse offering for her mother. But, oh, it hadn’t been…
After setting the box on the table, he turned to Anne, lines carved deeply into his hard face. “I’m sorry. Sorry for not seeing you as more than my baby. Sorry I treated you and your brothers differently, that I didn’t support you and recognize how much you’ve achieved. You deserved better from me.” His eyes gleamed with moisture. “I really am very proud of you.”