Page 59 of The Alpha's Sin
I laugh too.
“I guess you’re right. Which is just another reason this is the perfect place for a proposal—because I think baby number two wants a big beef and cheddar.”
“Then let’s go get him one!” Logan grins. “What does baby number one want?”
“Curly fries. Definitely curly fries.” I can’t help grinning.
“You know,” I add, “we need to start thinking of names. We can’t keep calling them ‘baby number one’ and ‘baby number two’ forever.”
“I know,” Logan agrees. “We’ll have plenty of time to pick the perfect ones. Besides, we’re still not completely sure baby two is a boy yet.”
But I’m sure. I can feel it deep inside me. I’m carrying a little Alpha son as well as a sweet little Were girl. And soon, I’ll be married to the man of my dreams.
I can’t imagine being happier than this.
But happiness can be fragile. And somewhere in the shadows, something dark is stirring…waiting to tear our perfect world apart.
47
POPPY
I’ve never been so happy in my life.
It’s winter now, the kind that bites your nose and turns your cheeks red, but I barely feel the cold. Logan keeps me warm with his love.
For Christmas, we went crib shopping and came home with not one but two—matching dark wood cribs that will sit side-by-side in the spare room. Only…it isn’t really a “spare” room anymore. Logan’s turning it into a nursery. Might as well, since I haven’t slept in there for months—I’ve moved completely into his room, into his bed, into his arms. Exactly where I belong.
We’ve been pouring over baby-name books, laughing over the strange ones and carefully circling the names that tug at our hearts but eventually we decide on family names. Patricia, after my grandmother for our little girl and Daniel for our little boy, because that’s Logan’s middle name and I want our son to be named after his father. Logan even brought home a diaper genie, grinning as he set it in the corner.
“One of the guys on my crew just had a baby and he swears he and his wife couldn’t live without this thing,” he said.
I don’t mind working less—only a couple of shifts a week at the Dollar Tree now. The rest of my time I spend nesting. I picked up knitting again—something my grandma taught me years ago. With a few YouTube tutorials, my fingers remembered what to do. I’ve nearly finished a little pink hat for Patricia, and I’ve already started a soft blue one for Daniel.
Now, at the beginning of my third trimester, my belly is getting quite round. Daniel’s caught up to his big sister—surpassed her, even. The blood test confirmed it: he’s an Alpha. I’m tired more often, but I don’t have mood swings, not really. The only thing that hasn’t changed is my hunger for Logan’s touch. My Second Heat still burns in me, but Logan takes care of me gently, carefully, making sure I never feel anything but loved.
He still won’t knot me but I’m trying to be patient about that—he’s promised that as soon as the divorce goes through and we’re legally married and mated, he’ll give me his knot as often as I want it. And I have a feeling, I’m going to want it a lot. I’ve never felt so horny as I have during this pregnancy. It’s strange but also wonderful—mostly because I have Logan who’s eager to satisfy my needs.
Our life together feels perfect. Almost too perfect.
Only one thing bothers me—I saw Kyle and Leroy once more at the Dollar Tree. It was just last week. Their eyes went wide when they saw my belly but they didn’t say a word to me…just slunk away like whipped dogs. I didn’t tell Logan. No need to poke that hornet’s nest when they’ve stayed away since.
As for Dirk…he’s still missing. The PI hasn’t found him, but that just means abandonment should be easier to claim. Maybe even an annulment. I can just claim that both pregnancies are Logan’s. Why not?
We’ve been dreaming about a wedding in a little chapel in the mountains—a small ceremony with just the two of us. Logan promised me the dress of my dreams.
“Even though I’m showing?” I asked him.
He smiled and stroked the curve of my belly.
“Yes, kitten—you’ll be a beautiful bride. You’re glowing, did you know that? You’re going to look fucking gorgeous in a wedding dress—not despite your belly but because of it.”
His words make me blush and nibble my lower lip. God, I love him so much! I’ve never been with anyone who makes me feel so beautiful…so loved and cherished.
Everything seems perfect.
Tonight after dinner, we curl up by the fire. Logan strokes my belly, murmuring to the babies. His big hands are so gentle as he bends close, speaking in a high, silly tone he calls his “daddy voice.” I laugh every time—it sounds nothing like his usual rumbling Alpha baritone. He’s going to be the best father in the world.
But then—Bang! Bang! Bang!
