Stella
“Wake up, baby,” Maddox murmured, rubbing slow circles across my lower back. “Time for bed.”
I blinked beneath the dim glow of the floor lamp. The television screen had gone black, the room quiet except for the faint hum of the house settling for the night.
“How long did I last?” I asked, gripping his thigh to steady myself as I pushed upright.
“Hmm. About twenty minutes,” he said, tugging the blanket off me.
I grunted.
All the extra walking around the city must have taken its toll. But it had been worth it just to see his face light up when he came out of his office earlier.
He stood, the warmth of his body leaving my side, and held his hands out for me. I tried not to look—but it was impossible when his dick was directly in my line of sight.
Old habits were hard to ignore.
My eyes travelled higher until I found his smirk waiting for me.
“I’m at your service,” he said, taking a dramatic bow.
He wasn’t even lying. From the day I’d thrown half a fruit bowl at him to now, he’d made good on that promise—his time, his patience, and, apparently, his body, day or night. Pregnancy had been an adjustment for both of us.
“Why thank you, kind sir,” I said, holding my hands out to him.
His head snapped up from the bow and he immediately took my outstretched hands.
With a careful pull, he helped me to my feet. I was seven months along now and, although I was mostly belly and boobs, everything had started to feel heavier. Simple things—standing up, turning over, climbing stairs—required a bit more effort than they used to.
His hands steadied me as we shuffled toward the hallway.
“What do you think about Madeline?” I asked.
“Mm. Madeline. Madeline,” he repeated thoughtfully, as if testing the sound of it in his mouth. “I like it.”
He guided me toward the stairs, one hand resting protectively on my back.
“Madeline, did you break that window?” he continued, already warming to the idea. “Madeline, did you punch that boy’s face in?”
He nodded to himself.
“Hm. I think this one goes to the top.”
“Poor Madeline hasn’t even appeared yet and you’re already accusing her of crimes,” I said, rubbing my belly gently.
“She’ll be a spirited lass,” he said in a truly terrible Irish accent.
I laughed, leaning slightly into him as we started up the stairs.
“Spirited or not,” I said, patting my stomach again, “she’s definitely yours with the way she keeps me up at night.”
By the time we reached the top of the stairs, he was already crouched in front of my belly, completely focused on it. His hands spread over the curve of my stomach as he began whispering to my womb, already shortening her name to Maddie as if it had always belonged to her.
I leaned against the hallway wall and watched him.
His dark hair fell forward as he spoke to our daughter, each ridiculous promise and claim growing wilder by the second. And somewhere between the teasing and the soft murmuring, it struck me just how much he loved her.
Loved us.
I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that Hazel had suggested the name.
I loved it because it reminded me of Maddox.
“Maddie, you’ll be free soon,” he whispered dramatically. “Daddy will be right here waiting for you.”
I rolled my eyes, though my fingers drifted into his hair, stroking through the soft strands.
His eyes shot up to mine instantly.
“My daughter will be a badass,” he said with complete conviction. “I’ll take her to martial arts classes as soon as she can stand.”
I blinked down at him, imagining a tiny version of Maddox squaring up to the world.
For a second an image flashed through my mind—Uma Thurman in the iconic yellow jumpsuit from Kill Bill, slicing her way through enemies without blinking.
Yeah.
Suddenly being a badass sounded really good.
I rubbed my stomach thoughtfully.
“Alright, Maddie,” I said thoughtfully. “Looks like we’ll need to hire you a good lawyer.”
Maddox rose slowly to his feet and turned to face me.
“Like I’d let my little girl get caught,” he drawled, winking at me. “I’d be the one burying the bodies behind her.”
I snorted, though the look on his face made it difficult to tell how much of that was a joke.
He took my hand and guided me toward our bedroom, his grip warm and steady as we walked down the hallway.
He sounded like he was joking.
But something in my gut told me he’d do it without losing a single minute of sleep.
I trailed into the bedroom behind him, still picturing the criminal masterminds apparently growing inside our home, while he reached back and quietly shut the door behind us.
I smiled at the ludicrous direction our conversation had taken… and yet, somehow, it made me feel better knowing he was already planning ways for Maddie to protect herself.
We made our way into the bathroom to wash up, but I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
Every day he seemed more attractive to me than the day before. It wasn’t just the way he looked—though that certainly didn’t hurt. It was the quiet confidence, the steady way he moved through life as if nothing could truly shake him.
And the way he looked at me.
Like I was his entire world.
I leaned against the counter and watched him rinse his hands, the water running over his fingers as he scrubbed them clean.
And I was glad I didn’t have a period tonight.
Because nothing stopped me from taking what I needed.
His energy always matched mine.
Always.