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CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

WE’RE DOING THIS

BOWIE

Poppy opens her door and smiles up at me. I’ve taken her on multiple dates now, but I still can’t believe it. I wake up every day looking forward to seeing her, wishing she was in my bed every night, missing her when she’s not. I step closer and kiss her.

“You ready for this?” she asks.

“So ready.”

Once we’re driving, her hand rests on my thigh, making slow circles with her thumb that are probably innocent but are making me hard.

“After this, we can tell Becca,” she says. “And your mom…and the McGregors…”

After Easter, we decided we’d wait to tell them until Poppy was twelve weeks along. Just to be sure everything is okay with the baby.

“I can’t wait to see Becca’s face when she finds out she’s going to be a big sister,” I say. “I can picture her face already. She’s going to lose her mind with excitement.” The thought makes me grin, some of the tension easing from my shoulders.

I’ll feel better once this appointment is over…actually once that baby is in our arms, but I’m trying to not just be a downer with all my fears.

“I cannot wait,” Poppy says, grinning at me.

Inside the clinic, we move through the halls hand in hand. I still have moments of what the fuck am I doing in a relationship? but Poppy makes it so easy. Honestly, she’s the one forcing us to not just speed-walk into this relationship despite how we’ve gone about things backwards.

When her name is called, the nurse does a double take when she sees me next to Poppy, but fortunately, she recovers quickly.

“Oh, hello,” she says warmly.

We’re led back to the exam room and Dr. Talbot walks in and introduces herself to me. She asks Poppy a few questions and before I know it, Poppy is on the cushioned table, pulling up her shirt just enough for the ultrasound wand. I stand beside her, heart pounding so hard I’m sure the doctor can hear it. When there’s a steady, quiet drumroll sound, Poppy gasps.

“That’s your baby’s heartbeat,” Dr. Talbot says .

Poppy’s eyes shine and I lean down, pressing my forehead lightly against hers. I’m not sure what to say, I’m too overwhelmed with relief, fear, wonder…it jumbles in my chest. Her hand finds mine and I exhale a shaky breath.

“Your baby is the size of a plum,” Dr. Talbot says.

She talks about measurements and due dates, but all I can focus on is the warmth of Poppy’s hand.

This is real. We’re doing this.

We do CVS testing, a diagnostic test that identifies Down Syndrome. It’s mostly to help alleviate my concerns. I know there’s no way to know one hundred percent what you’re dealing with when having a baby, but I want to be prepared as much as possible.

“We’ll rush these results and let you know within the week,” Dr. Talbot says.

“I appreciate that,” I tell her gratefully.

When we leave, Poppy’s still glowing, and I’m walking on a cloud. Mostly. There’s a familiar knot that never fully goes away, the pile of fears I can’t seem to shake. Sometimes after I’ve spent the evening with Poppy—we’ve cooked together or tangled ourselves in the sheets late into the night—I drive home and climb into bed thinking about the way Adriane left without a backwards glance. I don’t miss Adriane. I don’t want to ever see the woman again. But the fear grips me: what if Poppy does the same? What if I can’t handle fatherhood again, with a newborn on top of being a good dad to Becca? What if I’m not enough?

“Hey, where did you go?” Poppy asks.

I look at her, see the softness in her eyes, remember the gentle press of her forehead against mine when we heard the heartbeat, and it’s like the tension unravels. She’s different. We’re different. I’m…happy. Happy in a way I’ve never been .

“You make me happy, Wicked Stella,” I say.

Her eyes crinkle when she laughs. I’ve been calling her that since Easter with her family and it never fails to crack her up.

“You make me happy too,” she says.

“I texted Mom and Mrs. McGregor before we left the clinic, asking if we could all have dinner together tonight.”

“Perfect,” she says. “Should we head right there?”

She licks her lips and I stare at her mouth, squeezing her thigh. “How about we stop at your place first? Celebrate a little on our own first.”

“I love this plan.”

Her lips are on mine before I’ve even closed her front door. I clench her waist with both hands, and with her flush against me, I pivot us, pressing her against the wall. My mouth trails against her neck, hot and open, sucking where I feel her heartbeat against my lips. She slides her hands up my neck and into my hair. I love her hands in my hair, love her hands everywhere on me.

“Where do I start with you, little mama?”

She pulls my head down, kissing me. I groan at the contact, her sweet candy lips parting under my tongue. I bunch her shirt in my hands and tug it over her head, tossing it behind me. Her bra is next, my eyes feasting on her gorgeous tits.

I take a step back and just look at her.

“I can’t believe you,” I say in awe. “So fucking beautiful.”

I slide her pants down her legs. She motions for me to get rid of my clothes and then stands demurely against the door, watching as I shuck my pants and shirt. When I stalk toward her again, she flicks her fingers for me to lose the boxer briefs too. I grin, taking them off and then reach out, tugging her pretty panties down her legs.

I pause and press a kiss on her stomach.

“Hey, little plum,” I say, which makes Poppy laugh.

Then I straighten and brace one hand on the wall and with the other, I trace down her skin, down her breasts and along her stomach. Her nipples are hard and a blush crawls over her neck when I cup my hand over her breast. I can’t resist tasting her and when I suck her nipple, my other hand cups around her ass. I love hearing the way her breath hitches when I do that.

“Where do you want me?” I ask, looking up at her with my tongue still swirling around her peak.

Her head falls back. “Everywhere.”

I smile against her skin. “Why don’t I take you to bed this time instead of desecrating this wall again?”

She laughs. More than once, we haven’t made it to the bed. I stand and lift her by the thighs, wrapping her legs around me, another favorite position. She seems to love it as much as I do, whimpering when I rub against her core. She circles her hips against me and I love that she’s already soaking wet.

“I can’t wait,” she says. “I want you too much to take our time…”

“I’m greedy for you too,” I tell her.

When we reach her room, I lay her down and kiss my way up her body, my fingers moving between her legs. I dip one finger inside and then two, and when she’s ready for it, three.

“Please,” she whimpers, wiggling against me.

I move my fingers and slide into her in one long stroke.

“Bowie,” she gasps.

I lose myself in her. Everything feels so right when we’re together like this. All inhibitions and worries quiet down and all I think about is making her feel good. She’s screaming my name within minutes. I love how loud she can be when we’re here, but it’s also fun when we’re at my house and I’m quieting her cries with my mouth.

I flip her over and she rides me so hard, so perfect, that when I come, she comes again too.

When we get to my house, it smells like dinner is almost ready. My mom and Mrs. McGregor are mid-bicker over which napkins to use. Becca bursts into the room when we step inside, already launching into a story about her day. Martha looks exhausted from trying to keep up with Becca. She doesn’t like Becca out of her sight, which makes me think pretty highly of the little beast. I watch Poppy laugh and reach out to touch Becca’s hair fondly, and my heart twists.

I love her.

Holy shit. I love her.

I swallow hard and Poppy glances at me then, her eyes narrowing on me. She smiles quizzically and the knots loosen. She doesn’t even know that she has my heart in her hands.

I’m in a bit of a fog as we sit down to eat and when Poppy leans over and asks if I’m okay, I take her hand and kiss her knuckles.

“Yes,” I say, my voice low.

Her eyes crinkle with her smile.

I reluctantly tear my eyes from hers and look around the table.

“We have news,” I say, glancing at Poppy again. She nods, beaming. “We’re having a baby.” I look at Becca. “You’re going to be a big sister. ”

Her eyes widen. She sucks in a breath so fast she coughs. “A baby!” she squeaks, her voice high. “I’m a sister! Where is the baby?”

“In my stomach for now,” Poppy says, laughing.

“Like Tru’s belly,” Becca says. She waves her fist in the air. “I’m a sister!”

My mom claps her hands, tears shimmering in her eyes. “This is the best news ever!”

Mrs. McGregor places a hand over her heart. “Congratulations. This household just keeps getting better and better.”

Mr. McGregor proposes a toast. “To a healthy baby Fox!”

We all clank glasses, most of us with water, but it still takes, and the conversation is lively as Becca asks what the baby will look like. Mom does a little dance when she brings out the dessert. Mrs. McGregor fusses about portions, and Poppy rests her head on my shoulder, looking up at me with that soft look that makes me feel steady and like I’m falling harder, all at once.

“I hope our baby has your blue eyes,” I tell her.

“I love your brown eyes so much,” she whispers. “But Becca’s blue eyes are beautiful, so maybe the baby will have blue…”

Later, when the plates are cleared and Becca is tucked in bed—a miracle because she was buzzing with excitement—Poppy lingers. She belongs here, now more than ever.

“Stay here tonight?” I ask. I’ve asked her to stay often, but she’s never stayed the full night.

“I can stay a little longer,” she says.

I lead her to my bedroom and close the door quietly. Poppy moves toward the window, looking out at the moonlit yard. I slip behind her, sliding my arms around her waist. She leans back into me.

I swallow hard. “What if you stayed…permanently? ”

She stiffens and turns in my arms to face me.

“Move in with us?” I ask.

Her mouth parts and I reach up to cup her cheek. She leans into my hand.

“That wouldn’t be taking things very slowly,” she says.

“Think about it?” I ask.

She nods, her smile shy.

“Thank you,” I say, my voice almost a whisper. “For being here. For fitting seamlessly into my life…for giving me the courage to hope again.”

Her eyes get glassy.

“For everything,” I continue. “For making me so happy.”

“You make me so happy too,” she whispers.

We kiss, slow and unhurried, savoring every touch. Holding her like this, my body boiling over with desire for her, my heart stays calm.

I didn’t know when I met her that she’d be the antidote to my turmoil.