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She’s pinned her hair up to keep it dry, so I forego the pleasure of washing it and instead lather her with body wash, slowly, watching her from hooded eyes.

She watches me just the same, like she’s drunk on me.

I feel the ridiculous smile that spreads slowly across my face.

“What?” she whispers, smiling back.

“We should name her Rain.” It occurs to me in the same instant it comes right out my mouth.

She tilts her head, considering. “Our daughter?”

“Yes.”

“That’s adorable.”

“She’s from Vancouver, and it rains here a lot. And I happen to like the rain. And besides… it’s part of ‘Lorraine.’”

Quinn’s lips part as her eyes mist over. “That’s… so beautiful, Harlan.” She slides her arms around my waist and gives me the sweetest hug, pressing herself against me. We just hold each other for a long moment.

I can feel her heart beating against mine, know our daughter’s heart is beating inside of her, too, and it’s everything. Everything I ever could’ve wanted for myself, but never really thought I’d have.

“I love you, Quinn,” I whisper against her hair, and she hugs me tighter.

“I love you more than words,” she whispers back.

We’ve only been engaged for a week, but it’s been the best week of my life. By miles. I love her more every single day.

We’ve spent the week getting her and Lorraine moved in. We celebrated Christmas together. We’ve had endless sex. And some more serious talks, that have just strengthened our bond. Which I think we owe to the little girl we’re bringing into the world; to make sure her family has the most solid foundation possible when she enters into it.

We’ve even negotiated living together in a way that will work best for all of us. She’s agreed to limit her chaotic style of “organizing” her things to her own spaces; her bathroom and the family kitchen where she’ll bake with Lorraine. And I’ve agreed to work on accepting that children are messy.

Quinn and her mom have agreed to respect my need for cleanliness, and to do their best to be considerate of our shared spaces. And if living with people who don’t put things awayexactly as I want them to becomes too much, I’ve agreed to go back to therapy.

Quinn gazes up at me and says dreamily, “I guess I should get out and start getting dressed.”

“If you must.” My hands roam down to her ass and squeeze.

She kisses me, then reluctantly pulls away. She rinses off and slips out of the shower, and starts toweling off as I rinse.

“Shit!” she cries, startling me. She’s looking at my watch on the bathroom counter. “I didn’t realize what time it is!” She flies out of the bathroom, naked, as I turn off the shower. “We need to get ready!” she shouts from the direction of the walk-in closet

I step out and dry off with a sigh of contentment. We’re throwing a New Year’s Eve party at the house.Our house.We have the staff and caterers taking care of everything downstairs. There’s no reason to worry about a thing, but it’s adorable how seriously Quinn is taking it all.

She’s been excited about the party all day, and keeps fussing over her playlist, and the cake she made, and the drinks she wants to have served—even though she can’t drink.

“Don’t worry,” I tell her, as I stroll into the walk-in. “You’re going to be an incredible hostess.”

She’s digging through a drawer filled with panties, messing up the neatly folded rows. I try not to watch. “I feel like I’m going to puke, I’m so nervous,” she says.

“You just need to get used to the beauty of having staff,” I try to reassure her. “They’ll do the work. We just show up and enjoy.”

She pulls on a pair of lacy black panties. “Easy for you to say. You just put on the same black suit you always do and you’re good to go.” She looks entirely jealous of the fact that I’m totally relaxed. “I have so many directions I could take my dress choice, and I have hair and makeup to do…” I stroll toward her as sherambles. “And I made that extravagant cake that took most of the day?—”

“Of course you did.” I come up behind her and wrap my arms around her. Making her stay still, tucked in against me. I give her a kiss on the top of the head, smelling her hair. It’s like lavender shampoo and cupcakes. “Just breathe.”

She takes a deep breath.

“I just need everything to be perfect,” she says.