I tug his hair, forcing him to crawl up my body so his face is looking down on mine.
“Really? Are you really pregnant?”
I nod, smiling, and watch his stunning eyes fill with tears.
He drops low to my stomach and kisses over my belly button. “Daddy is a stud! I didn’t even have to try, baby,” he tells my stomach, stroking his hands over the skin. All of a sudden his head pops up and concern draws his eyebrows together. “We still get to do the discussing stuff though, right?” He looks genuinely worried. I grab his face and tug him back up to me so I can kiss his lips. “If you mean the sex then, absolutely yes.”
“This is heaven, being here with you like this. I don’t ever want to get dressed,” I say.
“If I’ve died or I’m going to die, I want it to be drowning in your kisses or suffocating by your thighs. When I go, I want it to be because you loved me to death or fucked me to death. Either or. ”
I slap his arm and giggle.
“We can’t control when we die but we can control how we live, and who we live with and I choose you. I will always choose you,” I murmur my wedding vow to him.
“We will always be two hearts with one beat, two minds with one thought,” he whispers.
In sync we both say:
“She was made for me.”
“He was made for me.”
“Soul mates.”