Page 200 of The Coach

His touch is lazy. Thoughtful.

And then?

His fingers move, brushing featherlight over my belly.

I freeze.

Not because I don’t like it.

But because it feels… different. Intimate in a way I’m still getting used to.

Jackson keeps going, his palm flattening over the small curve, like he’s memorizing the shape of me. Of us.

His voice is quiet, rough from everything we just did.

“Have you thought about names?”

My heart stutters.

Names.

For the baby.

I clear my throat, suddenly shy. “A little.”

He smirks against my hair. “Yeah?”

I nod, playing with a loose thread on the bed sheet. “I don’t know, though. I feel like it has to be something strong.”

Jackson’s thumb brushes soft, lazy strokes over my belly. “I like that.”

I glance up at him. “What about you?”

His eyes flick to mine, something warm and unreadable in his gaze. “I was thinking about that on the drive here.”

I blink. “Really?”

He grins. “Yeah. I mean, you’re the one doing all the hard work. But, I want to be part of it, too.”

My chest tightens.

God, I love him.

I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Well? Any ideas? I guess I’m not making it easy, since I decided that I want it to be a surprise if it’s a boy or girl.”

Jackson tilts his head, thinking. “If it’s a girl…I kind of like the idea of something classic. Something strong, like you said. Maybe… Eleanor? Call her Ellie for short?”

I bite my lip, smiling. “Ellie.”

He nods. “Yeah. Cute, but solid.”

I exhale, warmth spreading through my chest. “I like it.”

His grin grows. “And if it’s a boy…What about Beau?”

I blink, tilting my head. “Beau?”

He shrugs. “Yeah. Simple, strong, a little old-school. And it means ‘handsome’ in French—which, let’s be honest, is pretty much a guarantee.”