Page 40 of Capitally Unexpected

“Are you wearing shorts?” she murmurs, still facing away from me.

“Uh, yeah. I changed before I came in.”

“I thought you couldn’t sleep with clothes on.”

When the fuck did I tell her that? “Can’t sleep is a strong phrase. Plus, I want you to be comfortable.”

“It would make me comfortable to feel your skin on mine. C’mon, big spoon.”

I sit up to pull the shirt over my head and lift my hips up to slide the shorts off. I say a prayer to the God of Hard-ons to keep things PG. Well, as PG as it can be when you’re almost naked in bed with someone else who—my bare legs brush against hers as I press myself against her back—is also almost naked.

“Hmm.” She hums, sounding so content, it makes me wish I could tattoo a sound onto my body to keep it with me forever. Her breathing evens out almost immediately. I lay there in the dark wondering at what point my luck changed to bring me Michelle. And at what point I’ll inevitably fuck it up.

Mentally shaking myself, I do my best to push those dark thoughts aside. Instead, I try to think of what I can do for Michelle to thank her for letting me be a part of this. As I listen to her breathe, an idea comes to me. Relief courses through me as I think through the plan, certain I’ll remember it tomorrow because it’s not for me. It’s for Michelle. My Michelle. My eyes close, and I drift off.

Chapter

Seventeen

Michelle

Twenty-one weeks pregnant

Iwake up more well-rested than I’ve been in weeks. The solid, warm presence at my back can claim credit. His hand is cupping my stomach, his breath even and warm at my ear.

After yesterday’s appointment, my brain tries to revolt about anyone touching my belly, but my heart pushes back until I can conjure up thoughts to combat the negativity. Here is a man who cares so much for me, for us, for this baby we made together. Instead of discomfort, a sense of being cherished rolls through me.

To the outside observer, my shape hasn’t changed much at this point. This means I’ve been able to keep it quiet at work, which I’m grateful for, especially with the opportunity of the web content. But Hunter, if he were awake, would notice a firmness is forming underneath my skin where his hand rests. The space Cumulus is occupying grows week by week.

Like they’re responding to my thought process, a flutter comes from where Cumulus is resting. My eyes close again,wanting to extend the contentedness of the moment the three of us are sharing.

“Holy fuck,” Hunter exclaims as my eyes pop open. “Was that ...” Maybe he doesn’t want to jinx it.

The firm nudging happens again, right where Hunter’s hand is resting on my stomach.

“Yup, that was little Cumulus saying good morning.” A giddy laugh follows as I move my hand to rest right next to his. He laces our pinkies together as we wait and hope for another kick.

“Has that happened before?” he whispers, like speaking too loudly will startle the baby.

“No,” I whisper back, in case he’s on to something. “I’ve felt small movements before, but it’s the first time?—”

I’m interrupted by one more kick and Hunter’s the one to laugh this time. “Holy shit, there’s a baby in there.”

A full belly laugh erupts from me dislodging Hunter’s hand. Moment broken, I roll over to face him, watching as the sheepish look on his face melts into laughter too.

We come down from the high slowly. Hunter continues to gaze at me with wonder, and I can’t look away.

“That . . . that was amazing,” he says. “I can’t believe I got to be a part of it.”

I reach up and stroke his face, my hand tracing down his chest until I clasp his hand. “I think it happened now because you were here. When I woke up, I felt so protected. The bad thoughts from yesterday tried to work their way back in, but because you were holding us”—I rest our hands against my stomach—“they didn’t find any room.”

Hunter inhales sharply, his eyes round with emotion. He leans in slowly, his intent clear, before brushing his lips with mine. Morning breath be damned, I open for him and go willingly when he breaks free from my grip to haul me closer.

The kiss is heated, but with passion and fondness, not as a precursor to more. Our mouths slow, until his forehead tips to mine, breathing each other’s air.

“Good morning,” he says.

“A good morning it is.” We stay like that for a long moment, enjoying this new place we’ve found together.

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