This Man Confessed(63)

“One more.” He removes the lid.

“For God’s sake.” I snatch it on a scowl and shove it between my thighs. “That’s it!” I drain the rest of my bladder, making sure it’s completely empty so I physically can’t pee on any more sticks. “There.” I yank some tissue from the roll and sort myself out while he takes all three tests to the unit and places them neatly in a row.

Despite my irritation, I can’t help smiling as I watch him standing there, naked and bent slightly, bracing his hands on his knees and getting his face up close and personal with the tests.

“Are you okay there?” I ask, joining him and copying his position in front of the unit.

“I think they’re broken. We should do some more.” He makes to shift, but I grab his arm.

“It’s been thirty seconds.” I laugh. “Here, wash your hands.” I take his hands and hold them under the tap while he keeps his eyes on the test.

“It’s been longer than that,” he scoffs. “Much longer.”

“No, it hasn’t. Stop being neurotic.” I resume knee brace in front of the unit, as does he.

Peeking out of the corner of my eye, I meet his sideways glance, my lips curving at the corner. He raises defensive eyebrows at me.

“Are you taking the piss out of me, lady?”

“Not at all.”

The silence falls again, and we both remain motionless, braced and waiting. Time seems to slow slightly while we both stare in silence as some faint letters appear on the first test. My heart picks up pace as my eyes drift over to the next test and find the slow development of the same letters. My heart is now trying to break free from my chest and our heads inch to the left a little to watch as the very same letters form on the third and final test. I realize I’m holding my breath, and I let it gush out as I sense Jesse next to me twitching. I turn my face to his, feeling completely overwhelmed with emotion. His head turns, too, until he’s facing me. We’re still bent over the unit, we’re still both bracing our arms on our knees, and we’re both completely expressionless.

“Hi, Daddy,” I whisper, my voice quivering slightly as I watch him scanning my face.

“Fuck me,” he whispers back. “I can’t breathe.” He collapses to the floor on his back and stares up at the ceiling.

I straighten myself out and roll my shoulder blades a little. I feel all stiff. “Are you okay?” I ask, looking down at him. This wasn’t what I expected, but then his mouth starts twitching and his greens land on me. He jumps up and seizes me in his arms, lifting me clean from my feet on a shocked squeal. “What’s the matter with you?”

He paces quickly into the bedroom and places me on the bed way too gently, yanking my towel away before crawling up above me and settling his body between my thighs and resting his chin on my stomach. He looks up at me with the most incredible amount of contentment in his eyes. They are twinkling madly; his damp hair is all over the place and his frown line and chewed lip are nowhere to be seen. How could I have ever doubted this when he’s looking so relaxed, like I’ve just given him life? Well, I have, I suppose. Or he has given life to me. Either or, my husband is one happy man, and now that I may have gotten my own head around this, I can see clearly—very, very clearly. He has more than enough love to share. This devastating man, this ex-playboy, will be an amazing daddy, if a little overprotective. I’ve not just given him life, a life revived and worthy, by giving him me. I’ve given him new life, too—a part of him and a part of me combined. And seeing him so unbelievably euphoric has chased away every single doubt. I can have a baby with this man.

“I love you,” he says quietly. “So much.”

I smile. “I know.”

He presses his lips to my stomach tenderly, and then strokes it softly. “And I love you, too,” he whispers to my flat belly. He circles his nose around my bellybutton before he works his way up the bed and lays himself all over me. My hair is brushed from my face and he gazes down at me. “I’ll try to be better. With you, I mean. I’ll try not to smother you and make you crazy.”

“I like you smothering me. It’s the unreasonableness that we need to work on.”

“Give me specifics,” he prompts.

“You want to know exactly what drives me crazy?”

“Yes, tell me. I can’t try to control it if I don’t know exactly what bothers you.” He drops a chaste kiss on my lips, and I struggle to prevent a laugh. He doesn’t know? We could be here for the rest of the year, but I’ll focus on my main grievance for now.