Page 57 of Owned In Misty Mountain

“Smells good,” I say, voice light.

He glances over. “You okay?”

“Better now.”

—-

I sit at the table and try to play it cool. Which is… impossible. My cheeks are burning.

He slides a plate in front of me and sits across the table.

“You’re staring.”

“Just thinking.”

“Uh huh.” He narrows his eyes. “Thinking about what?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” I sip my water. “Names. Maybe furniture. A little future Costa.”

He stills. Fork halfway to his mouth. Brow twitching.

“I—what?”

I shrug. “Like… maybe we should start prepping for a third coffee mug. A tiny pair of boots.”

He sets the fork down. “Shanay.”

I slide the test across the table.

He stares at it. Silent.

Then he looks up—eyes wild, mouth parting like he’s forgotten how to speak.

“I’m pregnant,” I whisper, voice shaking. “It’s yours.”

Like that needed clarifying.

—-

Mike moves so fast the chair scrapes the floor.

The next second, I’m in his arms, lifted onto the table, his hands cradling my face like I might vanish.

“Baby,” he breathes, voice wrecked.

“I didn’t mean to spring it on you—”

“You think I don’t want this?” His thumbs brush my cheeks. “You think I wouldn’t beg for this if I could?”

My breath catches. “You’re not freaking out?”

He drops to his knees.

Palms spread wide across my belly.

“No,” he growls. “I’m claiming it.”

He kisses my stomach. Then again. Then higher—until his mouth is back on mine and I can’t stop shaking.

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