Page 73 of Capitally Unexpected

I moan around a fork full of eggs, cheese, bacon, and vegetables. “You know, I wasn’t ready for how hungry breastfeeding would make me.”

“You moaning makes me hungry for something else,” Hunter says, and I meet his eyes, dark with want. “I’m still convinced Hope was conceived after I heard you make that noise over my eggs for the first time. Feeding you does something to me.”

“Add it to the tab,” I say, adding a little extra smolder to my gaze as I hold his. We both know he’s all talk. He’d never dream of pushing me for sex before both the doctor and I say I’m ready, but damn if it’s not going to be weeks of foreplay. When we’re cognizant enough to recognize anything other than exhaustion, of course.

He exhales and shakes his head, cutting his waffle with a bit more force than necessary. The next time he looks at me, his eyes are simply full of adoration. “So, after breakfast, presents? Or should we save them to open on Zoom with everyone later?”

“Presents?” I ask. “I thought we said no presents given we had a baby two weeks ago.”

Hunter looks with meaning at the packages under the tree and to the one I put on the coffee table earlier.

“Okay, the one on the coffee table is an extra onesie for Hope in the PJ pattern. I figured having a backup wouldn’t be the worst idea. And most of those are for Hope from everyone, like we didn’t have a baby shower a month ago.”

He sets his empty plate on the table, talking as he moves to the tree. “Thank goodness she was born early and there’s some space between her birthday and Christmas. No shared presents for our angel.”

I laugh, knowing this girl will be spoiled rotten.

“But,” he continues. “I did notice a few packages labeled ‘To Dad, From Mom.’ First, please always label my packages this way from now on. I had to sit down when I first read it. Second, you thought you’d be the only one to break the present rule and have something for me under the tree?”

I can’t stop my smile from growing. “You’re not the only one doing middle of the night shopping, I guess.”

He shakes his head at me in mock scolding. “Well, you’ve been caught, Lewis. We’ll save the rest to open with everyone else later, but I wanted to give you this while it’s just us.” He kneels on the floor in front of me and hands me an envelope with a bow attached. His chin rests on my leg, looking at me expectantly.

I slide my finger under the sealed edge and rip it along the fold. A gift certificate waits inside.

“A gift certificate for a tattoo?” I ask, after examining it for a moment. “That’s really sweet.” I say, meaning it, but confused why he couldn’t give this to me in front of everyone else.

My expression must not do a good job of hiding my internal thoughts, because he chuckles. “I know. It doesn’t seem like something private. You’ve mentioned you might want to get one someday, so I grabbed the certificate while I was in the salon for this.” He leans up and pulls his tank top over his head, revealing a white patch taped over his left pec.

“That’s why you’ve been wearing a shirt constantly the past few days,” I say, my eyes bouncing between the square of white and his eyes. My emotions are still on a hair trigger, and tears well in anticipation.

“I may have been counting on exhaustion to keep you from asking. The artist I wanted left town for the holidays a few days ago. I got one of his last appointments for the year.” His eyes lock with mine as he starts to peel away the tape.

My breath catches as the ink on his skin is revealed. Two line tattoos of flowers are centered, their stems intersecting with a jagged line representing the pattern of a heartbeat on a heart monitor.

“Are those ...” my voice trails off.

“A violet for you, and a narcissus for Hope. Yes. Maybe a bit redundant to ink my heartbeat on top of my literal heart, but loving you, loving Hope . . . it feels like my heart beats on theoutside of my body, because my chest can’t contain all the love I have.”

I lean down and press my lips to his, too overcome to form words. Instead, I push my gratitude, my love, through our kiss. The salt from my tears mixes in with the taste of Hunter.

“So, you like it then?” he teases once we break apart.

“I love it. I love you.” I brush my hand through his hair, unable to stop touching him in this emotional moment.

“I love you too, Mich. Merry Christmas.” He leans into me, his arms going around my waist, his head on my thigh. I wrap one arm around his shoulder, the other reaching to Hope. Not wanting to be left out of the moment, she wraps her little hand around my finger.

Soon, it’ll be time to break the moment and connect with the rest of our family and friends. To celebrate the holiday with everyone who’s come to mean so much over the past several months.

For now, I have everything I never knew I needed wrapped around me.