Page 93 of Stone Rules

I remove her from my lap and position myself over her, using my elbows to keep my weight off her belly. “It was the orgasm,” I tell her. “I’ve read about that. Your uterus contracts and it causes the baby to move around.”

I kiss her and then work myself down her body, past her breasts, past her belly. I look back up at her. “Give me five minutes and I’ll have Junior doing somersaults.”

One hour and two orgasms later, she’s exhausted. I’m exhausted. But mission accomplished. She felt him move two more times. And seeing her that happy makes me want to give her a hundred orgasms.

I lay with my hand on her stomach, longing for the day I’ll get to feel his movements along with her. I can’t believe I’m going to be a father again. I’m excited. I’m terrified. I’m so fucking grateful.

I swear to myself right here and now to be the best father I can be. To always be there for this child. To never ignore her because my favorite television show is on. To never be too busy to throw a baseball with him. To love his mother so much, he has no choice but to find the woman of his dreams and do the same.

I think of all the fathers in the world who don’t do any of those things. I think of all the fathers who are missing out on the best part of life. I think of George Tate and the mistakes he made that ruined his relationship with his only daughter.

I prop up on an elbow and stare at Charlie until she looks over at me. “What?” she asks. Then her jaw drops. “I don’t think I could do that again, Ethan.”

“That’s not what I had in mind,” I say, laughing. “But can I ask you to do something for me when we get back to New York?”

“Of course. Anything.” She smiles at me, running a finger across my three-day stubble.

“Would you take me to meet your father?”

Chapter Forty-two

It took almost four weeks, but Charlie finally caved in to my pleading to call her father. If there’s even a small chance to salvage their relationship, I knew I had to try. As the father I once was and the father I’m about to become, I’m not sure I could live with myself knowing there is a man out there who loves his daughter but can never know her. Not if there’s something I can do about it.

She’s nervous. She didn’t eat breakfast this morning. I’ve already got a catered lunch on standby, hoping all will go well and she’ll want to eat after our meeting.

George Tate.

I’ve stayed up many nights wondering about him. I’ve investigated him with Charlie’s approval. It was one of her conditions of meeting with him. The other conditions were that it was here, at our offices, and that I be in the room. She didn’t have to twist my arm on either of those points.

Having Charlie work right down the hall from me is even better than I thought it would be. I gave her the largest unoccupied office, thinking we could stick a crib in the corner and bring the baby to work with us. Unless she wanted a nanny, of course. But the day we had the decorator come to put her office together, Charlie told her she wanted a rocking chair instead of a couch. That’s when I knew. I knew she wanted exactly what I wanted.

It amazes me every day how the two of us found each other. If I searched the ends of the earth, I wouldn’t find a woman more perfect for me than Charlie.

We have settled into our new routine since coming back from California. We come in to work together each morning. She works until noon and then I walk her home and we have lunch together before I return for the rest of my day. She will rest, or do something with Piper, or shop for baby clothes. And after I get home we will go for a swim and then cook dinner together.

After Mrs. Buttermaker died, neither of us wanted to swim late at night anymore so we changed the time of our workout. In some strange way, it just wasn’t the same without her.

And thanks to my mother’s crash course in cooking, Charlie has become pretty good at it. We muddle through together and have found it to be the best part of our day.

Charlie isn’t the only nervous one today. I found myself picking at my breakfast as well. After all, I’m the one who demanded this meeting. I’m the one she’ll blame if it goes south. I’m the one who will have to deal with the fallout.

As if on cue, Brittney, our new receptionist, buzzes me telling me there is a Mr. Tate here.

“Please tell him to have a seat and we’ll be with him in a few minutes,” I say into the intercom.

I head down the hall to Charlie’s office. She always keeps her door open in case anyone needs anything. She has fit right in as our new office manager. She’s proven to be even better at scheduling, coordinating and problem-solving than I thought she would be. Everyone is impressed with her professionalism, her candor and her quick wit.

That’s my girl.

I stand in the doorway for a minute before she notices me. She’s hard at work transferring our files to a new system she found that will handle the needs of our agency much more efficiently.

“Hey,” I say.

For a split second, she smiles at me. For a split second, she forgets what day it is and thinks I’m here to walk her home. But then her face falls and she leans back into her chair. “Is it too late to change my mind?”

I walk over and rub her shoulders. “You can do this, Charlie. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll take full responsibility and you can punish me however you’d like later at home.” I lean down and whisper in her ear. “Howeveryou’d like.”

I feel her relax a little and she reaches up to touch my hand.

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