Page 65 of Edge of Stars

The beginning of a family.

As soon as the thought fills my mind, there’s a flurry of sweet flutters through my belly. I startle so suddenly, Maximus yanks back as if I’ve accidentally kneed his groin.

“What?” he charges. “What is it? Are you—is Twiglet—”

I cut him short with a laugh that’s probably too sharp. But I can think of no better restitution than taking him by the wrist and guiding his hand across the tiny thumps against the inside my abdomen. “I’m fine. She is too. Except—” I stop before he can even react with more terrified eyes.

“Holy—” But I’m not quick enough. His pupils are blown, taking up space in his irises like a pair of rogue black holes in twin nebulas. “Is that…my God, Kara…”

I laugh, trying to infuse it with enough warmth to quell the heart attack my husband’s surely about to have, but it looks like I’m again too slow on the proverbial ball. Maybe a quip will help instead.

“Hey. Tell it to the little linebacker here, mister. Though maybe we should go for Bigfoot instead of Twiglet? Or…start talking about that actual name again?”

For a long second, Maximus doesn’t answer. I don’t mind. The look on his face, adoration mixed with wonderment, is the best configuration of his features since the moment he first declared his love. But this…moves me even more. Clutches every chamber of my heart and ounce of my soul. Two minutes ago, I was certain I’d never discover more depths of love for the man. But here I am, as astounded as if we’ve jumped back into Po’s bubble and dived to the bottom of the Aegean to uncover a precious treasure.

Maximus sits up straighter and leans in, practically confirming he shares the conclusion. His action pulls at what’s left of my gown, wrapping it around his lower waist and groin. It covers a little more than Proteus’s provocative getup, but not much. I have to command my sights north of his sternum, or the subject will again get shoved away like the eucalyptus stamens blowing off the pier. As pretty as the sight is, I refuse to adapt Stamen as our daughter’s next nickname.

“Okay, then.” Maximus aids the cause with an easy pragmatism beneath his tone. “Let’s do it. Do you have anything special in mind?”

Besides giving myself permission to ogle your loincloth for a few seconds?

I beat off the thought with a roller-coasterish giggle. At once, it’s layered with a push of unexpected tears. It’s only a sheen, not even blurring my vision, but a strong enough sting to explain itself. Or maybe that’s all this man’s doing. This incredible, formidable man, so readily signing up for a role he never expected. So clearly and completely loving me…and everything about our child.

Okay, now the real tears set in. While I readily write them off to hormones, overwhelmed isn’t understating things when it comes to my heart.

My husband waits in patient silence, letting me collect pertinent thoughts before speaking up again. I yearn to kiss him—and everything else—even more now, but again, I have to focus on something better than Stamen.

Something much better.

Something that’s going to be worthy of the realms’ most magnificent child…

“Well, I like the general theme of trees, but this baby is royalty…”

Maximus nods. “So, fancier than Loblolly Pine.”

I don’t hold back on the laughter this time. “How do you even know that?”

He barely skips a beat. “Fancier than that, though?”

I bop fingertips against his shoulder. “Yes, Professor.”

“Gwynedd? Fruella? Hapshetshut? Edithinia?”

“How do you know those? And no, no, no, no.”

He takes the wise route, dipping into a moment of contemplation. Since he’s giving me the opening, I go ahead and soak up the sight. This time, all of it. Nobody in their right mind would blame me. My husband is the epitome of masculinity even with a lap full of sparkly Italian fabric and a mane full of bright-pink eucalyptus stamens.

That’s it. Name decision or not, I’m nearly ready to lunge.

But, thank all the gods, Maximus Kane knows, without knowing, that I need a rescue.

His grin broadens with gorgeous confidence. His eyes brim with a special kind of joy.

“What about…Nikoleta?”

My heart skips. My lips kick up.

Never in a thousand years would I have thought of the name, but now nothing else feels right for our unique, perfect princess.