It’s only after she’s settled, and her gorgeous eyes open to meet mine, that I let myself go.
“You’ve ruined me,” I murmur once I catch my breath and my heart doesn’t feel like it’s going to beat out of my chest. “I ask myself every single day how I could have ever gotten so lucky to have found you.”
“It was fate,” she replies just as gently.
I brush several strands of her hair out of her face and rest my forehead against hers. “It was our destiny.”
Lifting her head, she kisses me softly. “Kismet.”
“Do you think it’s possible we made another baby?” Molly asks, tracing the birthmark above my hip.
Tonight is our last night without the kids. I lost count how many times we’ve made love over the last two days, but even so, it still isn’t enough. It’ll never be enough with Molly. Hell, I only slid out of her five minutes ago, and I could easily go again.
“I think there’s a very big possibility. It was really easy to get pregnant with Gray and Gemma.”
“Yeah.” She flips over so she’s facing me, her head going back to the center of my chest. Once she’s comfortable, I rest my hand on her waist. “But I’ve only been off the pill for a few weeks. They say it could take months for it to fully leave my system.”
I lift my brows. “How long were you off the pill before you got pregnant with Gemma?”
“Hmm… you may be right.” She laughs. Her fingers run through the hairs on my chest. “I’m just so anxious since we decided now is the time to have another one. I already love him or her, even if a baby isn’t brewing inside me yet.”
“Brewing inside you?”
She laughs and shrugs. “Bun in the oven,” she says, patting her belly.
I put my hand over hers. “Boy or a girl?” I ask.
“As much as I want to say it doesn’t matter, I secretly want another boy.” She smiles. “Gray likes to act tough, but he’s my little gentleman. I’d love to watch him teach his little brother the same values.” She tucks her hand under her cheek. “What about you?”
“A girl. Can you imagine how much of a little momma Gemma would be with a little sister? She’d treat her like one of her dolls. Dressing her up, doing her hair, having tea parties.” I laugh lightly. “I think this is a bit backward. Isn’t the woman supposed to want more girls and the man want more boys?”
“We could have one of both.”
“Twins.” I grin. “Now, that’s an intimidating thought.”
“Yeah, but we’d both get the one we prefer.”
“And have absolutely no time for anything else.” I twist my lips into a smirk.
“We’d just have to be more creative with time management.” She kisses my stomach. “No matter what we have, I only want them to be healthy.”
“Me too, baby.” I start playing with the ends of her hair. “I meant to tell you earlier. I ran into Nina before we left. She and Owen are having a barbeque in a couple of weeks and invited us over.”
Molly yawns, it’s so strong her eyes tear up. “Nina? Who’s that?” Her brows furrow.
I laugh, pulling her up the bed and flipping her around so her back presses to my chest. “You need sleep. You’re delirious.” I pull the covers over us and push my face into her hair.
“Owen’s wife,” she responds after a moment. She giggles and burrows deeper into me. “I really do need sleep.”
I take a deep breath, letting Molly’s delicious scent seep into my senses.
“Love you,” she murmurs sleepily.
“Love you too.”
“Forevermore,” we both say at the same time.
Chapter Three
MOLLY
Dear Linc,
Today hasn’t been the greatest of days when I thought it was going to be just the opposite. I was so sure we made a baby while we were at the lake house a couple of weeks ago. I just had this weird feeling inside. I gave it two weeks before I took three pregnancy tests today. I was so sad when they all came back negative. I’m so grateful for the two children we have, but now that Lincoln and I have made the decision to have another one, I’m anxious to start that next journey in our lives. I didn’t tell Lincoln this, but after he left to go into the city, I sat in the bathroom and cried. I know it’s only been a couple of months since I stopped taking the pill, but I’m spoiled from my first two pregnancies, which didn’t take much effort or time at all. I also know I shouldn’t feel this way because there are so many married couples out there who tried for years to get pregnant and never have. I feel like I already know this unknown baby. Is that weird? To know someone who doesn’t even exist yet? I swear that’s how I feel. It’s like their tiny little spirit is hovering around me, waiting for the perfect moment to grace us with our third child. Lincoln, of course, was wonderful and told me not to worry. I’m working on my patience; I swear I am, and I promise the next time I write in this, I’ll bring up some good things that’ve happened.
I run my fingers over the inscription Dear Linc. This is how I start all of my entries. I never wanted to start them with Dear Diary or Dear Journal. It just seems too impersonal to me. These entries aren’t written to Lincoln, but since most of them involve him, I decided to shorten his name and use it instead.
I set my pen down and release a sigh. It’s not often I write depressing thoughts in my journal—most of the time I have only good things to say—but finding out I wasn’t pregnant today has gotten me in a low mood. It’s dumb and selfish to feel this way.
I close my journal, the pages now full. There are several boxes in the attic with my old ones, and this one will go up there with them. I already have a new one Lincoln gave me last week, waiting for its first entry.
My phone rings on the coffee table, and I see Mom’s name roll across the screen. I think about ignoring it, but decide not to. I’ve already missed one of her calls today. Setting my journal down on the table, I grab my phone.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Hey, sweetie,” Mom chirps. Just hearing her voice settles some of my anxious nerves. Her soothing voice has always had the ability to calm me. “How are you? I called earlier today.”
Sitting back on the couch, I tuck my knees to my chest, my heels on the edge of the cushion. “I’m fine. Sorry I missed your call. I was actually going to call you back in a bit.”
Several seconds of silence pass before her soft voice meets my ear. “I spoke with Lincoln earlier. He told me about the pregnancy tests.”
I lean my head against the back of the couch and close my eyes. “Yeah,” I say quietly.
“Now, why don’t you tell me how you’re really doing?”
Mom could always tell when something was bothering me. It’s got to be a mom trait because I do the same with my kids.
“I’m sad,” I sigh. “Then feel selfish because I’ve got no right to feel that way. I mean, it hasn’t been very long since we started trying.”
“Why in the world do you feel selfish?”