Page 80 of Full Out Fiend

“I—you are—”

With a fingertip to his lips, I silence him. I wasn’t fishing for a response. He needs to know this.

“I see you, Fielding Haas. I know the shape of your heart. You may be a twin, but there’s no one like you. You’re inimitable, and I’m so lucky you’re mine.”

I peck his lips softly, and he immediately deepens the kiss. Right here beside him is literally my favorite place to be. So much passes between us in this space—lying in each other’s arms, sharing the barest versions of our souls. But I meant every word. Despite all the craziness and the never-ending plot twist that is my life this year, I’m so damn lucky to have him by my side.

Before things can get too heated, I pull back—I wouldnotput it past this man to cast a spell and keep me snuggled up in this bed all day. But we both have places to be.

“I thought of another name last night,” he murmurs as he shifts back to give me space. He’s still got a hand on my hip under the covers, albeit innocently. I exhale a shaky breath anyway. I always have a hard time focusing when in such close proximity to him.

“Dem reminded me of our mom’s nickname when she was little.”

I don’t know much about their mother. She passed away last year, and she struggled with addiction, which worries him where our baby is concerned. When he talks about his mom, he always has this detached air about him, like it’s too hard to remember just how much he loved her.

“Which was?”

“Her first name was Gloria, and her middle name was Winnifred.”

I hold back a wince at the ostentatious tone of both options.

“But when she was little, she went by Winnie.”

“Winnie,” I repeat, testing it out on my tongue. It’s sweet. But juvenile. Will our daughter resent us for naming her Winnie when she’s in her thirties or job searching?

“It could be short for Elowyn. E-L-O-W-Y-N.”

Elowyn.

“That’s beautiful,” I murmur softly. “Elowyn Serena Haas.”

We’ve already agreed that the baby will have his last name, and that I get to pick the middle name. Her first name is supposed to be a decision we come to together.

“I love it,” I confirm.

“We don’t have to finalize anything right now—”

“Fielding.” I interrupt. “I love it. It’s the perfect name for our girl.”

He captures my lips in another slow, searing kiss as his hand trails across my hip, over my stomach, and between my thighs. I’m too swept up in the feel of him to remind him we’re short on time. The stubble on his jaw sandpapers over my neck as he works his mouth lower while his fingertips tickle over my core.

“Fuck… I love your body like this, angel.”

I preen under his praise, then squirm when he dives down to kiss my belly.

“Don’t get me wrong—it was amazing before—but now you’ve got me love drunk and possessed knowing you’ve got my baby in there.”

He scatters kisses all over my stomach before peeking up through hooded eyes.

“How many kids do you want?”

I scoff in response, jolted out of the seemingly sexy moment by his new line of questioning. If he’s love drunk, he just sobered me up real quick.

I prop up on my elbows and pull a face. “I honestly have no idea.”

It’s true. I always wanted to be a mom—but facing the logistics of how to blend that dream with our reality has been a wake-up call. Everything’s expensive. The advice contradicting. There are a million ideas out there about parenting and what’s best for baby. And I haven’t even begun to think about childcare or school choices. It’s all overwhelming.

But not for Fielding, apparently.