We had to agree on that rule when we first moved our desks in here and spent our first afternoon of ‘writing’ in a sweaty bundle in the middle of the room, using the bed that I’d forgotten to have removed … and have since.
Because then we’d never get any work done.
Her body is like oxygen to me.
I’ll never get tired of breathing her in.
I idly flip the pages of the hard copy work I’m editing, letting my eyes scan over the lines, searching for …
I pause.
My heart starts beating sweetly in my chest and my smile gets even wider, the sort of carefree smile I never thought would touch my lips.
She’s wrapped the pregnancy test in a clear plastic bag, but I can see it as clear as day.
“Tess,” I murmur.
“Yes,” she says, and I realize that she’s standing close to me.
She leans down and places her hands on my shoulders, trembling slightly.
“Yes,” she repeats.
It’s positive.
“Oh my God.” I spin in the chair and jump to my feet, wrapping my arms around her and lifting her into my embrace. “We’re going to have a baby. I can’t even—when did you do this?”
“When you went to the bathroom,” she says, snuggling close to me. “And I’ve been over there pretending to write for like ten minutes waiting for you to get to that page. Are you happy?”
“Happy?” I repeat, placing her down and sliding my hands up to frame her face, to gaze into eyes that I’ll never get tired of looking into. “That doesn’t even come close to it. I feel …”
I trail off. Gizmo yips behind us as he leaps from the desk to the chair, and then to the floor, one of his favorite obstacle courses. He runs over and starts to jump around at our legs, joining in on our joy.
“Complete?” Tess offers, a tear sliding down her cheek.
I smooth it away with my thumb and then lean in, brushing my lips across hers, savoring the taste and the texture as I always will.
“Complete,” I agree. “I do have one regret, though.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah,” I grin. “Why the fuck did we have that bed moved out of here again?”
She giggles and leans down to scoop up Gizmo, the little guy curling into a contended ball as the three of us embrace.Extended EpilogueOne Year LaterTessI sit in the garden of our five bedroom house, the sky as blue as my husband’s eyes and butterflies making patterns in the air. Isabella lies in her crib, shaded from the sun, a pacifier in her mouth as she makes cute sleepy noises that are like a symphony to me.
I pull my eyes away from the garden – from Gizmo frolicking in the pool and, beyond him, the flowerbeds in full bloom – to the review page of my debut novel.
Love Strikes Once.
I didn’t set out to write a romance – I’ve always been more of a fantasy gal – but after finding out that we were pregnant, the words just poured out of me, the same way Tanner often describes what writing is like for him. On and on, they came, until I was in a frenzy of prose and I’d written the book in three months …
And then came the editing.
But I’d worked my butt off and it was worth it.
I can hardly believe it.
I say it aloud, as if that will make it real.
“I’m a bestselling writer,” I murmur.
“Of course you are,” Tanner says, sliding down into the seat next to me with the grace of a warrior, belying his giant conqueror’s size.
“Hey,” I laugh, reaching over and nudging him playfully in the ribs. “You don’t have to be so sneaky all the time, you know.”
He smiles warmly and takes my hand in his, his blue eyes moving over me like flames. He gets that look as his gaze drinks me in, and I can hardly believe it. I haven’t changed out of my PJs and I must smell like motherhood, but it hasn’t changed the way he looks at me, not once, and we were like rabbits all through the pregnancy.
Gizmo clambers from the pool – using the special launching pad Tanner built for his little legs – and comes bounding wetly over to say hello.
Tanner chuckles and leans down, scooping up Giz with one hand while reaching into the crib with the other, softly stroking our daughter’s hair.
Isabella, his mother’s name.
I reach for my phone to photograph the moment and Tanner grinningly complies, holding the pose, making me almost burst out laughing with how OTT he goes with it.
But it’s just too tempting, too perfect.
Tanner in his steel suit, his beard longer than it used to be, a smattering of iron across his firm jaw. His muscles bulging despite the fabric, and a fatherly aura around him, a protective just-mine feeling. Gizmo’s mouth split open into a pink grin and Isabella turning toward her father’s touch, cooing softly in her sleep.