Page 26 of Baby Bump for the Mafia Boss

“Then she needs better hypothetical friends,” I reply.

“Seriously.” Stephie folds her arms.

I enjoy the way it frames her breasts, and her bump. I swear her breasts are bigger than… My imagination made them? I discard the thought. There’s no point in wishing for what could have been. Stephie and her baby will be mine in all the ways that matter.

“If she wants a blue, sea-themed room, then that’s wonderful, and we’ll do that for her. But until she can make that decision herself, I think it’s fairer to give her something more conventional.”

I nod, as though I’m taking this seriously. “Mmm. Okay, that is a consideration. I wonder…” I pause for effect. “Come and have a look at this.”

Turning away, I saunter down the corridor to the bedroom on the other side of the two of our rooms that take up the prime spots with views.

Again, I indicate for her to enter the room. This time, Stephie gives me a confused glance. Concerned, almost. Then the door swings open.

She’s speechless for long seconds, her mouth is an “o” of disbelief.

The mirror of the nursery we just looked at is before her. Crib, chest of drawers, wardrobe, other things. But instead of the sea mural, it’s a pink sunset on the savannah, complete withlions and giraffes, and birds and trees. In the corner there’s a pair of tourists on safari. If they seem suspiciously like Stephie and me, I’m taking no responsibility for that. It was the artist’s idea.

“Dane, this is…” She shakes her head, and when I step forwards to look at her, there are tears in her eyes.

“No need for that,” I say gruffly.

And then she’s crying harder, even as she smiles. “It’s just pregnancy hormones,” she hiccups. “I can’t help it.”

I hesitate, and then, fuck it. I slide my hand over her shoulders and shift closer. She folds into me without question, and my whole body relaxes at having her close, as she shakes with happy tears.

“It’s so beautiful, I didn’t think I’d have anything like that for the baby. Especially not that I didn’t make.”

“What’s a Daddy for but to make dreams come true?” I meant for the baby, but immediately I think of the night that I dreamed of Stephie and me together. I’m still working towards that.

I stoke her back gently. No lust right now, though that’s always just below the surface when I’m with Stephie. I comfort and hold her carefully, not showing the depth of my feelings when hers are so raw.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, shaking her head in disbelief. “This is absolutely—oh!”

Her chin snaps down, and her hand goes to her belly. Her eyes go wide. “Dane!” She looks up at me. “Our baby is kicking.”

Before I can process any of what she’s said, she’s shifted, grabbed my hand and pressed it to her bump.

“Can you feel it?” she asks breathlessly. “The kick? It’s the first time!”

There’s a flutter, and I’m not sure.

My face must reflect my uncertainty, because Stephie unceremoniously drags up her top and pushes my hand onto her bare skin.

Sensation washes down me. Her belly is firmer than most other places on her. The curve of the baby inside her is small, but distinct. I can feel it. Like bubbling water. A tiny movement that doesn’t come from Stephie herself.

“Yes.” I’m overawed by this miracle. She’s here, her hand over mine, and her eyes shining. We’re touching, and it’s not even a kiss to the cheek or a deniable brush of fingers. She’s sharing this magic with me. A moment I will never experience again and is a privilege in every way. The first time our baby—she said ours—made their presence known.

If we were a real couple, I’d lean down and kiss her. I’d lift her in my arms and spin her around with sheer joy. Instead, I smile down into her eyes and promise the active little life beneath my palm that I will love both of them, Stephie and every baby she brings me, with every part of my soul.

We stand there like that for long minutes, just feeling the baby, until it has had enough exercise for one day, and goes still again.

Stephie’s gaze slips to the mural on the girl nursery wall.

“Dane.” Her brows pucker. “The only thing is, there are two nurseries and one won’t be used at all. That’s such a waste!”

Oh it’s not. It’s absolutely not.

“I think we can find something to do with the extra nursery,” I say casually. Like fill it with another child. This one conceived while she screams my first name in pleasure and wears my last name.