Page 25

MYRA

I’ve heard how Simon talks about the little boy he once took care of like his own, and I just witnessed firsthand the way he looks at all the babies and kids filling the firehouse. I saw how he focused on them. The way his eyes lingered over the dads playing with their kids.

I know he wants that too.

Which is why I’m sort of surprised he doesn’t immediately jump on my suggestion.

“I think I’m going to need you to repeat that.” Simon says the words slowly. Like he’s trying to make sense of mine and it’s inhibiting his ability to form his own.

But I feel like I was pretty clear.

“We should have a baby together.” I decide to explain a little more this round. “I want to be a mom. It’s pretty obvious you want to be a dad. Why not kill two birds with one stone?”

I’ve been thinking about it all day, and it just makes sense. We make a good team. Between my house project and the way we tag-teamed Butch last night, it’s obvious we work well together. Isn’t that what having a kid is? Work?

Simon must not be following, because he still doesn’t react the way I’m expecting.

His eyes barely narrow on me. “You’re proposing we make a baby?” His head barely cocks. “Together?”

I nod as a spear of heat stabs through my belly, shooting like a lightning bolt straight to my clit. Every inch of me throbs at the deepness of his voice. The low way he says together .

Because now all I’m thinking about is what we’d have to do— together —to fulfill my suggestion.

And maybe I thought about that all day too.

I’m not sure where I stand on a relationship, but I do know beyond a shadow of a doubt I want to be a mom. I thought it might be another dream lost to me, but maybe it doesn’t have to be.

Maybe Simon and I can make each other’s dreams come true.

He’s already pushed me into tackling one of the main issues I’ve been avoiding—my house.

Simon’s well into finishing off the main part of my first floor, and has plans to take care of the remaining half bath and dining room.

I’m sure it wouldn’t be a tough sell to get him to help me with the upstairs.

Honestly, all we’d need would be flooring and to finish one of the other bedrooms. The rest could wait until our baby was on the move.

Our baby.

I press a hand to my stomach, trying to soothe the butterflies that only seem to take flight when Simon’s around.

The motion drags his dark gaze down my front to rest on where my hand is spread across my belly. Right where a baby would grow. He stares, hard, as he steps closer, closing the gap between us.

“Why do you want to have a baby with me, My?” His question is soft and rumbly between us, and I feel it all the way to my toes.

“Lots of reasons.” I lick my lips, trying to find a little moisture in my suddenly dry mouth.

I thought I was prepared for this conversation, but it’s not going the way I expected.

I foolishly believed Simon would just agree.

I wasn’t expecting questions. Didn’t think I’d have to dig into—admit—the bits and pieces of the equation I’ve been holding close.

So close I won’t notice they’re there.

“Give them to me.” His tone is gentle and demanding at the same time. A contradiction that he embodies perfectly.

“Well…” There are so many things I’ve never experienced, many of them centered around what Simon’s asking of me now—communication.

I don’t have much practice at it since, until recently, my thoughts and opinions were irrelevant and unwanted.

But I want to do my best for him. Show him I can be as good of a partner in this venture as I know he will be.

“You’re kind and caring.” It’s not lost on me that I’m about to show just how much attention I’ve been paying to him, but I’ve already started, so I continue on. “Thoughtful and a good listener.” Pressing my lips together, I switch gears. “You’re a hard worker and motivated and determined.”

I thought those last few would sound better. Less like a list I might have for a romantic interest and more like the criteria I have for a potential father to my children. It still comes out feeling oddly personal. But picking a parenting partner should be personal, right?

Simon is silent for a very long time, and the excitement I felt over what I thought would be an easy yes starts to dissipate, leaving an aching sadness and dread in its wake.

He’s going to say no. Shut me down. Close off the only viable pathway I see to motherhood.

And now I’ve made it weird between us. Strange enough he might not even want to be my friend anymore, let alone the father of my children.

Shit.

I start to shrink, anticipating the rejection I know is coming. Preparing to be told—yet again—how foolish I am. How silly and stupid I can be.

I never wanted to hear those things again, and expecting them to come from Simon makes the dread digging through my guts even worse.

“It was a stupid idea. Pretend I never brought it up.” I can’t look at him anymore. Can’t believe I came all this way—figuratively and literally—to end up right back where I started.

Asking a man for what I want.

Dropping my eyes, I start to take a step back, needing space.

But my body barely shifts before a wide palm spreads across my spine, stopping my retreat. Simon’s free hand comes up to pinch my chin, his touch firm but careful as he tips my head back until our eyes meet again.

“It’s not a stupid idea, My.” The pressure on my back increases, bringing my body closer to his. “It’s just a lot to take in.” His thumb slides across my skin, smoothing over the spot just beneath my lower lip. “And I want to be sure you understand what you’re asking me.”

“I’m asking you to have a baby with me.” I thought I made that pretty clear.

“You’re asking me to fuck you.” Simon’s words are blunt.

And they stoke the flames doused by my worry he was about to shut me down. “That would probably be part of the equation.”

“That might be all of the equation.” Simon’s thumb continues tracing along my lower lip. “There’s no guarantees, My. We could do everything right and still might not get what you’re wanting out of this.”

“I know.” Of course I know it’s possible I might not get pregnant. I didn’t get pregnant the whole time I was married, so I recognize it might not be an easy or simple process. “But we could still try.”

Do I sound desperate? I think I sound a little desperate. And I’m not sure which part of the conversation is causing it.

I understand there’s no guarantees. That I might never get pregnant. But having sex with Simon was a given in my mind. After our two heated interactions, I assumed the physicality would be the least of the things making him pause.

After a few of the longest seconds of my life, Simon pulls in a breath and says the single word I’ve been waiting for. “Okay.”

A mixture of excitement and anticipation melts through me. “Okay.” I breathe out the word as a smile curves my lips.

But my smile slips when Simon keeps talking.

“But I have conditions.”

“Oh.” Another thing I wasn’t expecting. “What are they?”

Simon’s hand finally moves away from my chin. He holds it to the side, lifting one finger. “I’m not interested in clinical sex. If you think I’m just gonna stick it in there and get the job done, you need to back out now.”

“Umm.” I clear my throat, trying to prepare it to form words. “That’s not what I thought.” I fight for air. “What are your other conditions?”

Simon lifts a second finger. “I want you to spend six months with me before you decide this is really what you want.”

“ Six months ?” I don’t mean to shout, but it happens anyway.

Simon continues on like I didn’t just interrupt him. The hand on my back comes around to squeeze my hip in a possessive grip. “And I don’t just want a baby, My.” He leans in to ghost his lips across mine as his third finger lifts. “I want you.”

My eyes widen. “Me?”

“That’s right.” Another slow pass of his lips.

“You. If we’re going to do this, I want you to be mine.

” The hand he’s been holding up beside us slides into my hair, fingers winding through the strands.

They pull tight, tilting my head back as his mouth coasts along the line of my jaw, sending goosebumps racing along my skin.

He pauses when he reaches my ear, voice low.

“I want all of you, My. Not just your body.”

My tongue slides out, tracing across my lips as uncertainty and doubt creep in. It’s not that I don’t want to make this deal. The problem I’m having is, I’m not sure I can deliver what he’s asking for. “I don’t know if I have anything else to give you.”

“I know, baby.” Simon nips at the lobe of my ear. “Just try. Six months. See if this is what you want.” His teeth scrape the tender spot where my jaw meets my neck. “See if I’m what you want.”

That’s not really up for debate. Any woman in her right mind would want Simon. “What if I’m not what you want?”

Simon’s hand leaves my hip to palm the curve of my ass, pulling my body against his. Close enough I can’t miss the hard—and intimidating—length straining against the front of his jeans. “Does it seem like you’re not what I want?”

My eyes dip, head pulling against the grip he has on my hair as I look between our bodies to where he’s pressed against me. My gaze stays locked onto the ridge that’s surely being amplified by the layer of fabric covering it. It can’t be as big as it seems. Hopefully. “I mean as a person.”

“That’s what the six months is for.” Simon leans back, his brows pinching as he takes in my concerned expression. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I just…” My eyes widen more when his dick seems to get even bigger the longer I stare at it. “Does the six months start now?”

That sounded way more eager than I wanted it to, but there’s no taking it back now.

“The six months starts whenever you want it to.” Simon’s hand flexes on my ass. “However you want it to.”

“We should probably figure out if we’re compatible before we get too far into this.”