It's been two months. Two months of bliss. Two months of having Rina whenever and wherever I want her. Two months of officially dating—or at least, not hiding it around our coworkers anymore, who picked up on what was going on within about ten minutes of us deciding to let ourselves act normally around each other at the office. It's hard to disguise vibes like ours.

Chris and Lacy have gone official too, and we've been on more than a few double dates where we poke fun at each other for falling into the same situation at the same time.

The only problem, the only dark spot on our otherwise bright futures, are the negative pregnancy tests that have popped up for the last couple months. Rina's doctor has reassured her that this is completely normal, and there's no cause for concern yet, and besides, it's not like we aren't having fun trying. But I just hope things happen sooner than later, for Rina's sake. Watching her growing concern every time another test returns with the same results just makes me want to sweep her off her feet, back into the safe little haven of our bedroom, and distract her from the pain. I want to protect her from any disappointment, want to give her all the goals she wants.

And, admittedly, I want this baby too. I always thought about being a father in an abstract kind of way—something that I'd like to do one day. But now, spurred on by Rina's single-minded, energetic pursuit of her goal, I've realized how badly I want it too. I want to start a family with this woman. I want to make a baby, the two of us. I want to make a baby with her.

I have faith that it will happen. But, dammit, I wish it would already.

In the meantime, at least we have one another to enjoy. And that we do, spending night after night curled on our couch catching up on our shows—or, more often, distracting each other from them. Occasionally we hit the town with friends, and some nights we do get stuck late in the office toiling away. But at the end of the day, no matter how it goes, no matter what else happens at work or with friends and family, we always have one another to turn to at the end of it all.

That, I now realize, is worth so much to me. More than I ever anticipated.

Who knew that I of all people would turn out to enjoy relationships? Me, Mr. No Strings Attached.

Then along comes just another normal Tuesday at work. Like usual, I make coffee for us both, since we've long since decided that whoever wakes up first has that duty. I leave Rina sleeping at home, because she looked so sweet curled on her side, eyes shut, breath coming slow and steady, that I couldn't bring myself to wake her. She doesn't have any morning meetings today, anyway, not like me, so I don't feel too bad about setting her alarm back a few extra minutes before I head out.

In the office, I bury myself in the pile of emails that built up over the weekend, which I only made partial headway on yesterday, since I ducked out early. Monday night has become unofficial binge-TV and marathon-sex night, and hell if some overdue emails were going to make me miss out on that time with Rina.

But now, I have to face the music. I sigh under my breath and delve in, ready to settle down and work my ass off for the full day.

Unfortunately, though, I only make it through about half of the emails, almost to lunchtime, when my phone buzzes with a message that's destined to make me forget about all of this. Forget about anything at work, because it has my mind shooting in panic toward other things.

We need to talk.

From Rina.

My stomach sinks. I push up out of my chair to scan the office, wondering if she's pranking me by any chance, sending an ominous message like that to see how I'll react. But I can't see her anywhere. Her computer is on, so she must be here somewhere, but not anywhere in sight. I put mine to sleep and do a quick walk-through. Not in the kitchen or the break room.

Finally, I respond to her message.

Where and when?

Her reply comes almost instantly, and I nearly break the phone swiping it open to read.

Rooftop. Now.

The sinking sensation in my stomach increases. On my way, I text. Then I practically sprint for the elevators, my mind whirring. The rooftop is where the smokers hang out. But neither Rina nor I smoke, so I can't remember the last time I've been up on the office roof. What could she possibly want to talk to me about up there? And what could it be that prompted her to text me in the middle of the workday, unable to wait a second longer?

I hope everything is okay.

I hope she isn't sick of me already. Four months, which is how long it's been since we first began to hook up, doing our stupid NSA thing at first, that's a long time for both of us to be with the same person. Neither of us have been in a relationship that long that went well. I wonder if she's having second thoughts about it now. Wishing we'd never broken our NSA plan.

Just the thought of that makes me feel wild. Crazy with jealousy, fear. I can't imagine not being with Rina. I cannot picture my life without her in it.

But when the elevator reaches the top floor and opens up onto the rooftop, I realize I might need to. Because through the glass that leads out to the open air portion of the roof, I can see her already, with one hand over her mouth, her eyes full of tears, even as she turns to catch my gaze through the glass.

I practically sprint through the door to reach her. The moment I do, I pull her into my arms, holding on tight. "Talk to me," I whisper, cradling her against me.

She inhales a deep, shaky breath, and I bend to kiss the top of her head.

"Whatever it is, tell me about it," I say. "We can figure it out. Together."

That makes her laugh, a soft, broken thing that turns into a sob, before she sniffs again and wipes her eyes with the heels of her hand. "No, Cannon, it's..." She shakes her head, clamping her mouth shut, apparently unable to even speak about it, it's that bad.

Then she hands it to me, and my eyes widen.

Suddenly, all at once, I understand.

Suddenly, I'm almost as overcome with emotion as she is, my eyes stinging as I pull her against me again, my jaw dropping in shock. "Is this...?"

"Yes." She finally smiles, and it's a sight for sore eyes, the way she beams, watery and shaky, through her tears. Because those weren't tears of sorrow, not at all. She's been weeping with joy.

I turn the pregnancy test over in my hand, and hear myself shout aloud at the sight of the telltale little pink plus sign at the base of the stick. "Oh my God, Rina."

"It's finally happening," she whispers into my chest, before she tilts her head back to let me kiss her, deep and slow. "Cannon." She meets my eyes with a bleary smile that makes me kiss the corners of her lips, unable to stop touching her. "Cannon. We're having a baby."

And in that moment, hearing those words, for the first time in my life, I feel invincible. Like the two of us, together, can accomplish anything in the world. I grip her to my chest, hoist her off her feet, and whirl her in a circle as she laughs, unable to stop myself.

Then, realizing, I drop her back to her feet with a worried frown and loosen my grip on her shoulders, peering down at her. "Oh, God, did I hurt you? Did I hurt the baby?"

She laughs and rolls her eyes, shaking her head as she leans in to kiss my cheek. "The baby is fine, Cannon. Perfect. We all will be."

My eyes light up as they meet hers, and I can't conceal the stupid grin on my face. "Rina. We're going to have a family."

"We are." She grins, and I bend down to kiss her again. "So much for NSA," she murmurs against my mouth, and we both laugh, hard.

"Fuck NSA," I reply. Then I kiss her again, for real this time, my hands running through her hair, and we're distracted all over again by the familiar, reassuring, fire-igniting feel of one another.

"You're going to make a great father," she whispers to me, and those words send a thrill through my body.

"Only because you're already the perfect mother," I tell her. Then, grinning, she slips her hand into mine, and checks over my shoulder at the clock on the wall between the distant elevators.

"What do you think, baby daddy?" Her eyebrows rise, suggestive. "Do we have time to sneak home for lunch break today?"

My gaze drops over her, roaming across her perfect body. Her perfect body, which is now carrying our child. "What do you know?" I reply. "An urgent meeting has suddenly come up. For both of us. In the bedroom."

With a giggle that turns into a squeal, she lets me lift her again, gentler this time, and with her cradled in my arms, I stride toward the elevator, all too eager to get back to ravishing the gorgeous, soon-to-be mother of my child.