Page 35 of Clean Sweep

My Laura, my full-bodied, gloriously talented, wonderfully intelligent, amazing Laura was pregnant.

We both came again, me bellowing her name, Laura on a broken scream. She fell beside me, panting and I couldn't stop myself from leaning down and pressing a kiss to her stomach.

She laughed, swatting at my head.

"Do you think it's a girl or a boy?" I asked, grazing fingers across her stomach.

"I don't mind."

"The boys will be happy."

"Don't I know it. Do you think they'll let up on the puppy idea?"

"Not a chance."

We both laughed.

Laura yawned, rubbing one eye. "The only other downside is the fatigue."

"Stay here, have a nap. There's nothing you need to do. I'll deal with your luggage."

I sailed through the house work, unpacking her stuff, doing the laundry, deciding to throw on a crockpot for dinner that night.

I went back up to the bedroom with a sandwich and a tall glass of water. I'd spent the last hour googling what pregnant women could and couldn't eat, and had already placed an order for home delivery.

Gotta nail this husband of a pregnant wife role.

Laura was still passed out on the bed, gently snoring.

I took a moment just admiring this magnificent woman before I placed the plate and glass quietly on the bedside table.

Then I bent, pressing a soft kiss to her belly murmuring, "welcome to the family, little Viking."

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