“Yes. Gimme, gimme, gimme.” She claps excitedly, and I laugh.
“A little bit greedy this morning, I can see,” I mutter, and she smacks my shoulder.
“Whatever, I just love opening gifts. It could be a lump of coal, and I would still be excited about it.” She smiles as I pull out the card I tucked away in the top drawer of my nightstand. “A card, I love cards.” She holds it to her chest, and I laugh again. None of this surprises me, since my woman is Christmas obsessed. Everything is decorated—even Muffin has a red-and-green leash and collar with bells on it.
“Are you gonna open it or stare at it?” I question, running my hand up her thigh, and she leans up, kissing me on the edge of my jaw before ripping the card open.
“Vegas?” she breathes as she studies the two plane tickets sitting in her lap. “We’re going to Vegas for New Year’s?”
“Yes, and while we’re there, I want you to do me a favor.”
“What?” She pulls her eyes from the plane tickets to look at me, and I take her hand in mine, running my fingers lightly over her smooth skin.
“Be my wife,” I say as I slide a ring onto her finger. I thought the ring would be perfect for her—it’s simple and understated but still absolutely gorgeous. Everything she is.
“You . . .” She shakes her head. “You want to marry me?” she asks in disbelief, blinking at the ring, then me. How she can still react with surprise is amazing to me.
“Yes . . . I—”
“Oh my god. You want to marry me,” she yells so loudly that Muffin, who was asleep, gets up quickly and jumps onto the bed to see what’s going on.
“I take it that’s a yes.” I laugh as she launches herself at me, forcing me to my back and kissing me all over my face and lips.
“Yes, yes, yes . . . oh my god, I’m getting married.”
“We’re getting married.”
“Yes, we’re getting married . . . ,” she says quietly, then looks at her hand resting against my chest. “This is so beautiful.” She pauses to meet my gaze. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, gorgeous,” I murmur, bringing her face down toward me. I kiss her softly, then mutter, “Fuck me.” She sobs, dropping her forehead to my collarbone.
“This is . . . I’m so happy,” she cries, tucking her head under my chin and lying against my chest. “How did this happen?”
“You stole my heart and my breath the day you ran into me,” I say simply, and she pulls back, wiping away the tears on her cheeks.
“Who would have thought running with your eyes closed would lead to love?” she asks, and I grin at her, then look over at Muffin.
“Out, girl,” I command, and she huffs but jumps off the bed and heads out of the room, giving me the privacy I need to get my Christmas present from my girl.
Two years later
LEVI
“Hush,” I whisper against the side of my daughter’s head as I hold her against my chest. As her weight starts to finally settle against me and her cry dies down, I close my eyes and rest my head back against the headrest of the rocker.
“I would have gotten up with her,” Fawn says, and I open my eyes to find her standing in the doorway to the nursery, wearing a tank top that shows off her beautiful breasts and still slightly rounded stomach. I knew she would be gorgeous pregnant, and I was right. The extra weight still looks good on her, and knowing that her body provided life and protection for our child makes her even more beautiful in my eyes.
“You need to sleep, baby,” I say softly. At eight months old, Olivia is no longer nursing, but she is teething, which has led to many sleepless nights for her mom and me.
“So do you,” she murmurs, coming into the room. My little angel senses her mom is close, and she lifts her head from my shoulder.
“Mama.” She reaches out for Fawn, and I smile as she takes the baby from me, placing a kiss to her forehead.
“Were you having a cuddle with Dada?” Fawn asks her, and she looks at me with bright eyes that remind me of her mom.
“Dada.” She nods her head, and Fawn laughs.
“Yes, that’s your Dada,” Fawn agrees with a smile, and I pull her down into my lap. Then we sit there in the dark and rock our girl until she falls back to sleep.
Three years later
FAWN
Watching Olivia drop yet another piece of broccoli onto the floor, I sigh. I know she thinks Muffin is going to help her out by getting rid of the evidence of her uneaten vegetables, but unfortunately for her, Muffin hates broccoli more than she does.
“Olivia.” I raise a brow as she pretends to put another piece in her mouth and drops it on the floor.
“Yes, Mama?” She looks at me with wide, innocent eyes that you would swear were the eyes of an angel, that is if you didn’t know her. Only her father and I know different—our baby girl is a monster. Yes, she’s sweet, loving, cuddly, and so damn adorable that you just want to squeeze her, but she is also a hellion who pushes the limits every chance she gets.
“You know Muffin doesn’t like vegetables, honey, so now when you’re done eating, you are going to have to clean up the mess you made under your chair,” I tell her, and she looks at Muffin, who is sitting at her side—where she is every second of the day—and frowns.
“Muffin, you need to eat your vegetables. They’re good for you,” she scolds before muttering something under her breath, reminding me of her father.
“How are my girls?” Levi asks, coming into the kitchen and stopping to kiss Olivia before making his way to me. He kisses my forehead and lips, then places his hand on my very large, very pregnant stomach, over our son.
“Daddy, did you know Muffin doesn’t like to eat her vegetables?”
“I didn’t know that,” Levi lies, and I roll my eyes at him.
“She doesn’t. I tried to feed her some, but she just didn’t like them.” She points at the ground, and I bite my lip to keep from laughing at the put-out look on her face.
“Maybe you should eat some to show her how good they are.”
“Great idea,” she says before going about pretending to eat her vegetables.
Shaking my head at her, I look at Levi and catch him smiling at me. No matter how much time passes, no matter how crazy life gets, there is never a day I regret running into him with my eyes closed.
Two years later
FAWN
“Tamara Albergastey,” the speaker calls, and I stand and start to yell and clap as loudly as I can as I watch Tamara head across the stage. Her eyes meet mine for a brief moment, and she grins, then continues walking. I’m so damn proud of her. Not only did she graduate, but she did it at the top of her class.
“I’m so proud.” I smile, taking a seat next to Levi, and he wraps his arm around my shoulder and tucks me against his side.
“She’s a good kid,” he says, and I nod. Olivia and Lucas love her and are both sad that their favorite babysitter is leaving the state to go away for college after the summer.