Back in the car, I pull out the binder from the clinic and flip to the baby picture, while Edgar shuts my door and walks around. I can’t help touching the tiny dot.
My baby. Mine and Edgar’s.
He climbs into the car, closing the door. Then he leans closer, looking at the picture. “She’s amazing.”
“You aren’t going to accept that it’s a boy?” I tease.
“Nope. I know in my heart it’s a girl.”
I tilt my head, look at his handsome face. There’s a soft gentleness in his usually somber and serious gaze. The man’s glowing like he’s the one carrying the bun.
This child is going to be spoiled rotten. I can feel it.
Although everything inside me says it’s a boy, I want Edgar to get his wish, too. He seems so determined to have a girl. If we do, she’s going to look adorable with his green eyes and black-brown hair. Maybe she’ll inherit his grave temperament, too.
Is she going to be as stubborn and alpha as him too? That’s going to be handful, especially when she’ll have her daddy wrapped around her little finger.
My mind is already showing me a video of a small girl with an adorable scowl, demanding her daddy to do it her way or else.
Just—too—damn—cute!
I start laughing, and Edgar lifts his gaze from the picture. “What?”
“Just…the idea of utter dominance in a small package.”
I wonder if her cheeks are going to turn tomato red as well. Mama told me mine used to when I was mad. She also said my cheeks swelled like a blowfish because I’d suck in air and try to hold my breath to scare everyone. Apparently, I threatened to not breathe until people did what I asked them. I don’t remember any of that, but my parents have pictures from my toddler years.
Edgar nods. “The whip cracking? Yeah, you never know.”
“Huh? What whip?”
“You know. What the doctor said.”
That makes me laugh harder. “No. But…that was funny. In a bizarre way.”
He imitates her whip-cracking sound, complete with the wrist
flick. “I wonder what kind of impression I must’ve made to have her say that.”
“I’m sure it’s a standard pregnancy disclaimer,” I say, happy to see him relaxed and laughing. He should do that more often. “Besides, I did ask for clarification.”
“You did.” He laughs again. “But she could’ve skipped mentioning the rough part.”
“What, and get sued?”
He flicks the tip of my nose with the back of his index finger, his brilliant green eyes impossibly warm. “I guess we’ll just have to control ourselves for the next eight months or so. No tight bondage corsets for you.”
I blink at his light, flirty tone. Is he teasing me?
Oh my goodness. He is. Just look at the humor on his face!
And I like this side of him as much as I love his serious, controlled side.
I stick my tongue out. “Ha. I know whips aren’t your thing.”
“True.” He lowers his voice dramatically. “I prefer paddles.”
Oh my God, he sounds even sexier when he does that. “Whatever. If that was your thing, you would’ve tried to at least spank me our first time. You didn’t.”