Page 236 of Pucking Sweet

“Here, hold on—” Poppy reaches for the phone one-handed. She jostles it again as she gets the camera turned around. Then she’s holding it up over our sleeping son, showing me a closeup of his face. One hand is out, clutching to the blanket. I can see tiny little fingernails on each finger. His eyes are closed. His head is dusted with dark, baby soft hair, and his skin ...

Oh god.

Lukas leans in. “We can do a DNA test if you want, but the kid looks just like you, bud.” He kisses my brow through his mask. “Looks like sex in the elevator won this time.”

I’m so fucking happy. This doesn’t feel real.

“Lukas said you gave him a name?” says Poppy, her smile as radiant as the sun.

“Yeah, I did,” I reply, shifting a little. I want to get closer. I want to reach through the phone and touch them. “If you’re both okay with it, I want to call him Bennett. It means ‘blessed.’”

And we are. God, we’re so fucking blessed. So goddamn lucky. I blink back my tears.

“It’s perfect.” Lukas squeezes my shoulder. “No Colton John Morrow IV? You’re sure?”

I just smile. “Colton is a fine name. But growing up, I always wanted a name that was just mine. A name with no weight to it, no expectation. Bennett is a gift, a blessing all his own.”

“I love it,” Poppy echoes.

“Bennett St. James?” Lukas asks with a raised brow. “We can break with tradition entirely.”

Poppy flips the camera, her face back in view. “Oh no, my babies will have their daddies’ last names. Bennett Morrow.”

“Well, look at you, Miss Old Fashioned,” he teases.

She laughs. “Yeah, I’m nothing if not traditional.”

“What about a middle name?” Lukas asks, looking at me.

I’m quiet for a moment. “I was thinking maybe Anton.”

He goes still. “But that’s my middle name.”

I smile. “I know, that’s why I picked it.”

He lets out a shaky breath. “Look, I love you, and I’m flattered, but Anton was my grandpa’s name, and I fucking hated that asshole. If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to just skip using any of my names altogether.”

“Lukas—”

“No, I’m serious,” he says, over Poppy. “Babe, if you and I ever have a kid, I want them to be Morrows too. Morrow to me means family. You’re a Morrow, you know you’re wanted and loved. You know you belong.”

She nods. “Okay, Morrow it is. But Mister Bennett still needs a middle name.”

We’re all quiet for a moment.

“Let’s go with John,” says Lukas.

I raise a brow. “John?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, it’s your middle name. It’s a good, strong name. And not all traditions have to end. Four generations of Morrow men with the middle name ‘John’ seems fitting to me.”

“Is that your name, baby?” Poppy turns the phone back around to show us his sleeping face. “Is your name Bennett John Morrow?”

Seeing his face again, all the emotions of the day hit me like a wave, and I start to cry. The sobs cause a sharp pain around the bruising in my chest, but I can’t stop.

“Okay, whoa.” Eyes wide, Lukas leans away from the bed. “What’s wrong, bud? Are you—is this like a heart thing? Are you in pain?”

“I just wanna hold him,” I pant, unable to catch my breath. “Wanna hold them both.”

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