Page 207 of Renard's Deliverance

“What? Is there meant to be more?” she asked, confused.

“Uh, generally, yes. Like you take some time to consider things. The advantages, disadvantages. Things like that.”

“Doesn’t seem to be many disadvantages to me,” she said. “Other than the sleepless nights, which I’m used to. Oh, and having to have quiet sex. We’ll have to soundproof our bedroom. But yeah. I want one. And Renard likes to give me what I want.”

“The two of you were definitely made for each other. If I didn’t believe in fate after meeting Aspen, I’m pretty sure I do now.”

Yeah.

Her too.

* * *

They settledinto the rocking chair on their front porch.

They had two chairs, but most of the time she ended curled up in his lap, a blanket over her as they peered up at the stars.

They’d managed to find a piece of land for sale on the outskirts of town to build their cabin. It was surrounded by forest on all sides, but there were neighbors just a mile down the road.

It had taken eight months to build the four-bedroom, two-bathroom house. And she loved it. When you walked in, the living room ceiling was tall and peaked. There was a huge stone fireplace, and it was all open plan with a kitchen fit for a chef. The bedrooms were all upstairs and the view from the main bedroom was divine.

“Happy, Gem?” Renard asked as she snuggled into him.

“Had Sunday lunch with my family, where my man’s egg salad is in hot demand. My man just fucked me good, and now I’m curled up on his lap, under the stars, in a house we own that no one can take from us? Yeah, you could say I’m happy.”

“Fuck yeah, you are,” he muttered. Reaching out, he picked up the hot chocolate he’d made her. Which wasn’t just powder mixed with milk because this was Renard. Nope, it was made with real chocolate and had whipped cream and chocolate shavings on top. Oh, and a dash of gingerbread syrup.

It was divine.

He took a sip first to check the temperature before holding it to her mouth so she could have some.

She sighed as he set it back down. “I’m gonna get so fat.”

“Don’t want you saying that,” he growled. “For one, you’re not getting fat. You barely sit still. Two, don’t care if you do so long as you’re healthy. I was worried that you’ve lost weight.”

“I am going to get fat,” she told him.

“Why?”

“Because of this.” She grabbed his hand and placed it on her belly. They’d been trying for a few months now with nothing happening. She’d begun to think it wasn’t going to.

Until this morning.

“What the fuck?” he whispered.

“We’re pregnant, honey,” she whispered back.

“You’re fucking kidding,” he yelled.

“I’m not.”

“Gem.” He turned her in his lap and wrapped his hand behind her head, staring down at her. “We’re pregnant?”

“Uh-huh.”

“We’re fucking pregnant!” he screamed.

She giggled.

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