Page 166 of A Temporary Forever

We settle into a comfortable rhythm, eating our burgers and sharing laughs. I never imagined that our fake wedding would lead to this—a real family.

We finish our meal, and Peter picks us up. Mia dozes off against Caleb’s shoulder on one side, and I squeeze his hand on the other.

“Caleb?” I meet his gaze.

His eyes darken as he brings my hand to his lips. “What is it, black swan?”

Oh my, the predator came out to play. A shiver of excitement rushes through me, and I almost abandon the topic I meant to broach.

He leans in and kisses me gently, careful not to disturb Mia. “What is it?” he repeats.

“I know you said you don’t want children…” My voice quivers, because shit, this is not something I should bring up here and now. This is not the place for a potentially challenging conversation.

Caleb’s expression turns solemn, his features harden somehow. What if he says never? What does it mean for us? For this marriage?

A wave of nausea sweeps through me before he speaks.

“I’ve been on this quest to fix all my father’s mistakes, which included marrying you. I always thought that his biggest mistake—the example he set to us as a father—was not fixable. That it fucked me up forever. But I recently realized that while he’s a permanent stain in my past, I can’t let him soil my future.”

My lips curve up as my heart swells. How is it possible to fall for this man harder every day?

“And since I married a perfect woman, I want at least a dozen children.”

I gasp. “A dozen?”

He cocks his head. “A half dozen?”

I snort, shaking my head. “Why don’t we start with one?”

“Tonight.” He seals the conversation with a demand.

Six months later

My mind lingers between darkness and light. I don’t want to open my eyes yet, though I probably should. I’d planned on resting for twenty minutes, but my dreamless nap must have run long, guessing by the haze in my head.

I roll on to my back and stretch, waiting for the nausea.

Nothing.

I smile with relief. The first three months of my pregnancy were rough, with constant vomiting and a few emergency visits.

And while the fatigue from the first trimester still lingers, the nausea hasn’t returned in the last three days.

I finally pry my eyes open and look around. The living room is dim, soaked in the darkness from outside. I sit up, the blanket Caleb must have thrown over me sliding to the ground.

My gaze lands on a note on the coffee table.

Peter will drive you to the party whenever you’re ready. There’s a gift for you on the bed upstairs. Wear it.

Love, Cal

Oh, the party. Why did the man insist on hosting a Christmas party at my school? I haven’t even opened it yet. Besides some private classes, I wasn’t able to fully immerse myself into the business yet.

I couldn’t even continue with my performances because of my early pregnancy issues. I’ve stayed involved with the production, though. Especially after Caleb insisted on putting me in charge of the theater.

Reinhard resigned immediately after, which wasn’t a surprise, but based on the sentiment among the troupe and the employees, nobody would miss him.

We found out it was Leon who tipped off ICE. Ironically, he revealed it himself when he showed up at the theater drunk, demanding his gig back.

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