Page 111 of The Ones We Fight For

“Sure,” Walker replied and looked over at Talia, giving her asmile that was crooked with innuendo. “As long as we can leave immediately after.”

“Walker!” Talia balled up her fists, and he took a step away to dodge her. He was getting a little too good at side-stepping her punches. She’d have to get more sneaky about them.

“You could just do what Roscoe and I do and bang before the date.” Amala shrugged with the suggestion as if they were talking about the weather.

“Or, and hear me out…” Walker raised one finger and cocked his head at Talia, who could already feel her eyes rolling. “We could boink before and after.”

“If you say the word ‘boink’ in my presence again, you’re going to remain celibate.”

“Never again,” Walker promised, laughing. “Can you blameme for wanting more, though?” He stepped between Talia’s legs and slid his hand down from her shoulder, staring into her eyes with such affection that she thought about cutting and running right then to—well, boink.

“You two are making me sick to my stomach,” Amala complained.

Talia pointed at Amala’s massive belly. “I think that’s the baby.”

“You might be right.” Amala let out a long, exasperated breath and rubbed her stomach. “I gave him his eviction notice several days ago, and he still refuses to vacate my body. Talia, you were a lawyer. Is there any legal action I can take?”

“Legal? No. But sex is supposed to help induce you. I’m sure Roscoe wouldn’t mind.”

“I can confirm that he would not.” Walker winked.

“Listen, if you think I haven’t already tried that several times, you don’t even know me.” Amala waddled over to the shopping cart and pulled out the Pop-Tarts. She opened the box and removed one of the foil-wrapped bags, tearing into it with her teeth. “They’re inducing me on Tuesday, but I’m hoping he decides to get out sooner.”

“Ooh!” Talia bounced excitedly on the balls of her feet. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

“Me too.” Walker squeezed Talia’s hand before shooting Amala an admonishing look and snatching the box of Pop-Tarts out of her hand. “For now, can we distract you, Roscoe, and Jayla with a game night?”

Amala was probably the most competitive person Talia had ever met, and her eyes lit up at the offer. “Yes, I would love to slaughter both of you at charades, even ten months pregnant.”

“You’re nine months pregnant,” Talia pointed out.

“Really? Because it feels like eleven,” Amala whined.

“Six o’clock? Tal and I are going to make one of her mom’s recipes. And by ‘Tal and I,’ I mean she’s going to make it and I’m going to stir a few things.” Walker mimed stirring a pot, and Amala nodded appreciatively.

“On the other hand,” Amala considered. “Food poisoning may make the baby come quicker.”

“You’re losing it.” Talia bent forward and spoke directly to Amala’s stomach. “Hi, this is your Auntie Tal. If you come out of your mom’s belly before Tuesday, I’ll give you lots and lots of ice cream!”

Amala shook her head. “Because newborns can definitely have ice cream.”

“Shh, this is a private conversation. I’m talking to your spawn.” Talia waved Amala off and continued her spiel to her future honorary nephew. “Anyways, I’ll give you ice cream at whatever appropriate age you can eat that, and I’m going to spoil you rotten the rest of the time. Just please come soon, because I’m dying to hold you. Colin—you’ll meet him soon enough—says your Uncle Walker really loves babies, too, and has a closet full of stuff he keeps buying you.”

“Colin ratted me out?” Walker gave an overexaggerated gasp. “That’s it. No dinner for him!”

“What on earth did you buy him?” Amala groaned.

“A bunch of clothes, a rattle, a blanket with tiny dinosaurs on it, some binkies, a playmat because I assume he’ll be over a lot, a pack n’ play so he can nap at my house when you guys come over or if you want to go on a date or whatever, a tiny foam football, a tiny foam soccer ball, a tiny foam basketball, a tiny foam—”

“Is the ending of this list just a bunch of foam?” Amala asked, cutting him off. Talia was busy gawking at Walker, who was even more attractive to her now after the baby shopping spree had come to light. It was all for a baby that wasn’t even his. The sincerity behind that thought made her head swirl with hope.

When Walker said that adoption was always an option, he had been serious. Not serious in the way that everyone always told women who couldn’t have children to stop complaining because it was an option, but in a way like he had been planning to adopt regardless. Just like his brother. Walker took care of his nieces and nephews like they were his own and was already in love with his honorary nephew before he even came out of the womb. Adoption was something that came as second nature to him. Paisley and Cole had raised him as if he were their kid. It didn’t make a difference to Walker whether Talia could conceive on her own; he loved kids regardless of where they came from.

You’re going to be a mom someday. Walker had said it so many times, but for the first time since hearing it, Talia believed him. Not only believed him, but wanted him right beside her when she became a mom. Part of the reason she’d fallen so hard for Walker was his heart for his family. She had always wanted a full house. Toddlers screaming as they ran around the house buck naked, teenagers pretending like dropping them off was the most embarrassing thing you could do, and a packed Thanksgiving table—she wanted it all. For the first time since her diagnosis, it felt like she could have it.

“Yes, the rest of the list is a bunch of foam and a few miscellaneous toys thrown in there,” Walker confirmed. “Wait, Tal, we should probably get some bottles, right?” Talia’s heart fluttered in her chest, and she opened her mouth to respond, just for Walker to continue on. “And I think he needs a stuffed dog. Dogs are man’s best friend. Not a big red one, though.”

“That’s really sweet, Walker. Really, you didn’t need to do all that.”

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