Page 142 of Embracing the Beat
EPILOGUE
WEST
2 months later
New Year’s Eve
“Areyou sure you’re okay with this?” Michaela motions around us at the guest cottage, our home for the last two months.
I’ve been working as a long-term substitute at a private school in Malibu, but we aren’t ready to move out yet. Hopefully soon. It helps that I’ll start full time after Christmas break.
“What?” I ask, capturing her hand to play with her fingers.
Any time she’s within touching distance, she draws me to her like a magnet, and somehow I doubt the pull she exerts over me will fade with time.
“This. Movies. Pizza and popcorn on the couch.” She gestures to the TV—paused on Clueless. I tried to talk her out of this one, but since she let me watch both National Treasure and National Treasure 2, I figured she was entitled to the movie of her choice.
Although my attention has mostly been focused on her and the clock as it ticks closer to midnight. A new year. A new beginning.
Her, me, and our baby.
“What else would we do?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “A club? Dinner out? A party?”
“Do any of those sound appealing to you? More than this?” I ask.
We’re cuddled on the couch, her between my legs and my hands resting on her ever-growing stomach. Ever since Michaela first felt the baby move, she’s told me to stay close. She wants me to experience it too. At her last ultrasound, the doctor asked if we wanted to know the sex of the baby, but we want to be surprised. And no one understands how we don’t feel the need to find out.
But, like we’ve explained to everyone who’s asked, we’ve had good luck with surprises—falling in love with each other had been a surprise.
The best surprise of my life so far.
She cranes her neck to look at me before settling back against my chest.
“This is perfect.”
“I agree.” I brush my lips against the crown of her head. “Do you need more water?”
Since that terrifying night, I’ve made sure she always has a full bottle of water nearby. As the baby has grown bigger and spends more time bouncing on her bladder, she likes to complain, but I refuse to risk another night like that.
“Nope. All good,” she says, lifting the bottle tucked next to her on the couch.
I glance at the clock.
11:50.
My palms are beginning to sweat, and the need to fidget is overwhelming, but I keep my legs where they are. I have a plan, but my well thought out design is starting to blur around the edges.
She yawns, and I nuzzle her ear with my nose.
“Tired?” I whisper.
“A little,” she admits. “I used to be able to stay up all night.”
My cock perks up at her observation, and I roll my eyes.
Calm down.
