Page 119 of Power Play

“Your group chat was texting. The gossip girls were probably gossiping,” I joke innocently. But her face collapses immediately as she strides toward her phone on the nightstand.

“Did you read the texts?”

“No. Why?”

“No reason. Don’t worry about it.” She quickly checks the texts and locks the phone.

Before she can put it back on the nightstand, I already have my arms wrapped around her. I tackle her into bed with me, blanketing her with my body, both of my hands on either side of her face.

“What did we agree to when we got married six months ago?” I ask her.

“To never hide things that bother us.”

“And? What’s so bad about these texts?”

Layla starts smiling, confusing me completely. “I needed the girls’ advice, that’s all.”

“About what?” I insist.

“I asked if one of them knows a doctor I can see before our trip. Mine only has a slot in two weeks.”

I pinch my eyebrows together, and worry worms its way into my chest. “You’re not feeling well?”

She presses her palm to my chest, just above my heart. A smile lifts her lips. “I’m pregnant, Clay. You’re going to be a dad.”

“How far…”

“Seven weeks.”

I don’t think anymore. I crash my mouth on hers, kissing her with everything I have. A strong and formidable energy finds its way into my veins. Her words are branded on my brain, inked into my skin. And all I feel is love.

“Layla?” I say her name as we lie in bed. She cuddles into me, my hands on her belly.

“Mmm?” Her voice is quiet.

“If it’s a boy, can I name him?”

She’s silent for a moment, then she asks, “Do you want to name him Cameron?”

What? How does she remember that?

Gently, I turn her to me. Our eyes lock. “I told you that once…when we were still in college.”

“And? You said you liked it, that sometimes you wish it were the name your parents chose for you.” Her eyes crinkle with warmth. “I probably had a shitty way of showing it, but I always listened to you, and I always cared about the things you told me. About the things that were important to you.”

“Nothing about you is shitty,” I tell her, pushing a lock of her hair off her face. “You are the most beautiful, powerful, andresilient woman I know. Plus, you have a gorgeous ass—it’s a great bonus.”

“You and your obsession with my body.” Layla giggles as I press my forehead to hers.

“I’m obsessed with everything about you.”

“I know. I’m obsessed with you too,” she tells me, her breath warm on my skin. “And Clay?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Of course we can name our son Cameron. I like it too.”

I haul her into my chest and hold her close until she falls asleep. In the quiet of the room, the moonlight swims through a crack in the curtains. Layla’s steady heartbeat echoes mine. I lie here, staring at the ceiling and smiling to myself. The happiness and excitement that brew inside me keep me awake.

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