Page 92 of Fragments of You

“They did pretty well with your name.”

“If you say so.” I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me.

“I happen to love Paisley. Try growing up with the name Nash. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been asked if I was named after the show Nash Bridges.”

“At least you’re not named after a pattern. A tear-shaped one at that.”

“Okay, so let’s both agree we won’t name any of our children after shapes or television shows.”

“Children, as in plural?” I glance over my shoulder at him a second time.

“Oh, baby, I’m going to knock you up as many times as I can.” He gives me a cheeky grin.

“As long as you’re one of those dads who changes diapers and gets up in the middle of the night, you can have whatever you want.” I press up to kiss his jaw.

“Are you kidding? I’m going to be a super dad. I grew up with the world’s shittiest father, so I know exactly what not to do.”

“He may have been shitty, but he raised the most beautiful man I’ve ever known.”

“He didn’t do that, you did.” His words send my already reeling emotions into overdrive.

“Are you trying to make me cry?”

“Never.” He helps me into an upright position. “We should get going before it’s so dark we can’t see our way home.” He pushes to a stand before moving to my front. Taking my hands, he pulls me upright.

“There are streetlamps the whole way. You realize this, yes?”

After helping to brush the sand from my backside, which he thoroughly enjoys, he takes my hand and kisses the back of my knuckles.

“You can never be too safe.”

“This pregnancy has made you soft,” I tease, bumping my hip into his.

“When you have something worth protecting, you protect it with everything you have.”

“Soft,” I repeat with a laugh.

“I’ve got it!” He throws his free hand up in a eureka type of way.

“What?” I look at him like he’s sprouted a second head.

“Emmalynn.”

“Emmalynn?”

“You and your sister’s middle names mashed together.”

“Emmalynn,” I repeat a second time. “Is it weird that I think I like it?”

“No, because it’s awesome.”

“Did we just decide on a name for our daughter?” I stop just as we reach the sidewalk, turning to face Nash.

“I think we did.” His smile is so genuine it lights up every inch of his face.

If there’s one thing that hasn’t changed over the last two decades, it’s this man’s ability to take my breath away.

“Emmalynn,” I say for a third time. “Celine is going to be thrilled.” I almost groan, though it’s all in good fun.

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