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EPILOGUE

TATE

Eight Weeks Later

I’ve been waiting for Emily to admit defeat and tell me what she’s either not admitted to herself or hasn’t figured out how to tell me.

Either way, what we have is rock solid. Shit happens; it’s part of life.

Em being sick is unheard of, so when she’s running to the bathroom or having me pull over on the side of the road for her to lose whatever she last ate, I didn’t say a word, not even when I noticed her holding her tits to her chest, knowing they were hurting.

It sucked not to say, ‘Hey, want to tell me anything?’. I didn’t, though; not yet at least.

“Tate, you don’t have to be in here with me.

” She’s currently hovering over the toilet in the bathroom, and it’s not from drinking either because I’ve noticed she quit that a few weeks ago, too.

I ignore her, grabbing two washcloths from the linen closet, one for her mouth, the other for the back of her neck.

Who knows how long she’ll be like this this time around.

I get them both wet, then wring out the excess water before moving back to where Em has her arms crossed over one another and is once again becoming sick.

“Not going to leave you, babe. Especially with you like this.” I place one cloth on the back of her neck.

A sigh leaves her lips, and her body relaxes as much as it can in this position.

“Are you ready to admit you have something to tell me?” I ask, because this is getting out of hand.

Surely, if I’ve figured it out, so has everyone else.

“No, so be quiet. I’m waiting for one more thing to be delivered.

Pretend you didn’t see that and have zero reaction except to be elated.

” Em sits up, pushing herself away from the toilet.

I hand her the other washcloth, not cleaning her up.

She gets rather pissy about that, worried I’m going to be grossed out about a small amount of vomit.

Not likely. Emily doesn’t get it, but I’ll be here every step of the way through her pregnancy.

The ring she’s wearing on her left ring finger should tell her that enough.

As does the fact that I’m wearing one myself, platinum in color to match hers.

The one I chose for her has three diamonds, each a decent size, making it big enough that whoever might look at her will know just how taken she is.

“Alright, we’ll go with that. You ready to take a shower now?” It’s the evening. This is usually when it happens the most. Which sucks all the way around for Emily.

“Yeah, can you start the shower? I’ll brush my teeth.” She is still sitting on the ground. My hand goes out to help her up from the floor, being gentle, not wanting her to hover over the toilet again.

“Sure thing.” I go one step further, taking care of getting her toothbrush ready and placing it on the counter, then I reach inside the shower and turn the water on, making sure it’s not too hot or too cold.

It doesn’t take long for the steam to start to cloud the room.

I strip out of my clothes and walk inside.

Since Emily is still brushing her teeth, I’m going to give her time to gain a sense of composure even if I give zero shits about her getting sick.

The shit part about this situation is that I can’t do anything to take it away.

The rate it’s happening and how long it’s going to go on is anyone’s guess.

The water is pouring down my body. My eyes are closed as I let out a deep breath, my hands pressed to the tile when I hear Emily step inside the shower behind me.

The shower is glass on three sides, one small step leading in, two shower heads coming down from the ceiling.

That’s not what has my attention, though; it’s her body pressing against my back, lush tits touching my skin, pebbled nipples, hands wrapping around me, and the kiss she places on my spine.

“Tate, I’m pregnant.” I hold in my chuckle, letting her continue, “I had this great idea, but I can’t not tell you anymore.

Not like you couldn’t figure it out this past week.

I went to the doctor on Tuesday to confirm my findings, you know, exhausted, being sick, the way it hurt when you did that thing with my nipples.

” She is referring to the first night her symptoms showed up.

My mouth was on one, sucking on it just how she liked, my fingers on the other, pulling to get the same sensation when she pulled away.

“Kind of figured that, babe. Glad you’re finally letting the cat out of the bag,” I respond as I turn around, my hands cupping her cheeks.

“I narrowed it down to that first time, you know, when you slid inside me bare. It was only for, what, a minute or two. Apparently, that’s all it takes between the two of us. I’m a fertile myrtle, and you’ve got Olympic swimmers.” I can see the sheen of tears in her eyes, yet she’s smiling.

“I’m not angry. If anything, I’m happy, more than happy, really.

Ecstatic would probably be the word I’d use to describe just how I feel that you’re carrying our child.

” I kiss her forehead before pecking both eyes, following until my lips meet hers.

She opens for me, tasting of toothpaste and Emily.

“Love you, babe, you and any of our children we have. Don’t ever feel like you’ve got to go all out in order to tell me anything, okay?

” I ask, pulling back for just a moment.

“Okay, you’re right. The shirt onesie was just so cute, but stupid overnight shipping has failed me three days in a row.

I love you, Tate, so very much.” Her hands got to my waist. This time, our kiss is only the beginning of our shower.

I’m going to take my time, feel her softness to my hardness, and come deep inside my woman, knowing we’ve created a life together.