Fifteen
Where in the world did the last few weeks go?
I found myself wondering that more and more often lately, and the feeling was only intensified by the arrival of a notification from the pregnancy app on my phone.
At 18weeks, your baby is about the size of a sweet potato.
How cute!
You may start to notice an increase in food cravings – May?! – especially for specific, and sometimes strange, things. Outside of your cravings, make healthy choices so you don’t feel guilty about that candy bar, or extra slice of pizza.
I was supposed to feel guilty about it?
You may or may not be “showing” much if this is your first pregnancy, or if you started your pregnancy at a high level of fitness. Every woman is different, but don’t worry – the signature “baby bump” is coming your way soon!
My hand went to my barely-there baby bump as soon as I read those words. I didn’t fall in either of those categories, but any further “popping” of my belly was certainly taking it’s sweet time. As Darius had reminded me in the store a few weeks ago, I’d never made it beyond week 13, so all of this was new to me. Sometimes, I still had to fight the overwhelming fear of waking up without a baby, but this app, as silly as it seemed, was one of the things that helped ground me.
I nodded to myself as I read the list of symptoms I “may” be feeling right now.
Restlessness, swollen hands/feet, cramps, backaches, trouble sleeping.
A panicked call to Dr. Cho just a few nights ago had led to me taking the advice to sleep on my side instead of my back, to accommodate my uterus, which seemed to be expanding inside, just not outward.
“It’s a common thing,” she’d assured me. “You’re experiencing a perfectly healthy pregnancy.”
Dr. Cho was definitely on the unwritten, “Bitch, calm down” list I had to mentally tap into sometimes.
You’re almost halfway through your pregnancy, which means one of your most important prenatal appointments is coming. You’ll have to give blood, and you’ll probably have the advanced ultrasound where your provider will measure your amniotic fluid levels, check the location of your placenta, and make sure your baby’s growth, development, and heart rate are all on track. Don’t be scared! This is an important step to make sure you’re prepared for everything your baby might need.
If you haven’t been thinking about your birth plan, now is the time to start! You’ll want a chance to change your mind, and change it back, and plan accordingly before you go into labor.
That was another thing. I was already thinking about that, among other things. I’d drastically underestimated just how busy Ramsey would be, especially now that he’d been performing at a high enough level to start taking meetings about potential endorsements. Add that to constant practices, meetings with the coaches, meeting with his manager, meetings with Chloe, flights, and then the actual games. And at some point, the man had to sleep, and tend to the other people he knew too. Even though he rarely slept at the apartment the team had set up for him here in Connecticut, opting instead to stay at the townhouse with me, I felt like I didn’t have… enough of him.
Perils of dating a professional athlete.
And, hell, speaking of those living arrangements, we were going to have to do something. I had no real desire to live in New York, but in terms of space and security, Ramsey’s condo in Harlem was more practical than the townhouse. If it came down to it, of course I’d live there, but the truth was, I wanted us to find a place that was ours. Together.
Because that ended up going so well for me last time.
I wasn’t “supposed” to be at the nesting period quite yet, but my urge to start creating a space for this baby was strong. However, the niggling feeling to not get too far ahead of myself was equally strong – if not stronger. So I didn’t inundate Ramsey, or my friends, or my mother, with details of the elephant themed yellow, gray, and aqua nursery I was building in my head. I kept it to myself, often abandoning actual work to dive into the far reaches of the internet, fawning and gasping over DIY projects I would never actually do.
And none of that was considering the fact that I was busy as hell myself.
It turned out that the mention of the new WAWG coming to me about a show wasn’t just a rumor. When they called, I answered, and was on the verge of signing a new contract for what was essentially an expansion of what I was already doing on my own. Same name, pretty much the same format, just with better cameras and a bigger budget, and the chance to add “producer” and “show runner” credentials to my growing resume.
While I didn’t like that Chloe had advised me to disclose my pregnancy to them, in the first meeting. There were laws that protected women against pregnancy discrimination, but they weren’t strong enough, it was hard to prove, and quite honestly, the people in charge just did whatever the hell they wanted, and paid the fine later. But Chloe assured me it wouldn’t be like that – that not only would the informational be kept confidential, but it would be a positive character point for me, in the eyes of people who were working in the best interest of their investment. Disclosing my pregnancy said that I was honest, vs how not saying anything, knowing I was expected to work, could be seen as sneaky.
As it turned out, she was right – they appreciated me being upfront about it. They actually offered solutions like using women who were rising stars in the sports news world, and even some female athletes, as guest hosts in my post-birth absence.
It felt like a blessing.
But, as blessings go, it wasn’t something I could just sit with, passively. There was work involved with developing the show, not to mention the fact that I couldn’t let the current iteration of it just fall apart.
And then, there was my own social life.
I still had friends and family to maintain relationships with, but now, as part of the “Ramsey “Sledgehammer” Bishop” package, a new world was presented to me. I’d already loosely known Jordan to be Ramsey’s friend, but now that they were on the same team – and Ramsey and I were together – his presence was becoming more of a staple, and so was Trent Bailey’s. With the two of them came their partners. Even though Cole and I had already started to grow closer through our Naima connection, it was still new to be invited out together, or to be invited to the Bailey’s home for dinner, to sit out on their back porch and talk, on a social level.
But at least those relationships were easy breezy.
Tonight’s dinner?
Not so much.
I was supposed to be getting ready to have dinner at Eli Richardson’s home. Instead, I was standing at my bathroom counter in nothing but a towel, reading pregnancy app notifications. I was… procrastinating.
But, we couldn’t be late, not for the owner of the team. Looking in the mirror, I smoothed my eyebrows with my fingers, then scrunched my face, trying to decide if my features were spreading yet. I didn’t even know if it was supposed to happen this soon, or if it would happen at all, but I was constantly looking for the ways that pregnancy was changing my body.
Dropping my towel, I examined my breasts first, running my fingers over the nearly imperceptible wine-colored veins that had appeared as they swelled in size. Lower, starting at my ribs, I could just, juuust barely see a line starting there too, and followed it with my fingers. Down my stomach, over my belly button, slightly wider as it led down to my pubic bone. I only knew it was there because I was looking for it, having seen it on other pregnant bellies before.
I’d longed for this line. It wasn’t fully formed yet, but it would, maybe in a few more weeks, getting darker and darker. Things like that excited me, but still.
Don’t get too excited.
I cupped my stomach on both sides, caressing the beginnings of my baby bump. As I stood there, I felt a shift in the air behind me. Looking up at the mirror, I met Ramsey’s gaze through his reflection, standing in the open bathroom door.
“What are you doing?” he asked, stepping forward to wrap me in his arms. He was already dressed, mostly – he only needed shoes, belt, tie, and jacket, and to finish buttoning his shirt.
I closed my eyes as his lips, then teeth, met the back of my neck. “Just… looking,” I told him, as his hands moved to rest on my belly. “I’m almost ready. I’m finished with my hair and makeup, just need to put my dress on.”
“For what though?” he asked, drawing a moan from my lips as one of his hands slid down, pushing between my legs. I was already wet – was always wet, these days – and he groaned against my ear as his middle finger slipped into me, easily. His palm blanketed the rest of that hyper-responsive area in heat. He was only moving that one finger, exploring a place he already knew well, but just the skin-to-skin sensation was enough to have me throbbing.
“Ramsey,” I whimpered, as his other hand came up to cup one of my breasts in a gentle squeeze as his thumb brushed my nipple – so sensitive now that even such simple contact sent goosebumps racing over my skin. “We can’t be late for this dinner.”
“Mmm. Guess you’d better come fast then, Champ.”
I gasped as he ground the heel of his hand against my clit, creating a delicious friction that almost made me do exactly that. His teeth sinking into my neck distracted me though, enough that I rocked against his hand, trying to recreate the feeling he’d interrupted.
He laughed at me, withdrawing his touch to scoop me into his bulky arms, carrying me to the bed. He spread me out, propping me on a couple of pillows so I wouldn’t be laying flat, and then stripped – I got my chance to laugh at him in the way he carefully laid out his clothes across the chair in the corner so he wouldn’t have to iron again.
There was nothing funny about his mouth on me though.
Teasing, barely there touches of his tongue to my nipples, an act that filled me with a pleasurable sort of rage. An act that had me flooding, and fuming, at the same time.
“Ramsey, please.”
“Shhhh.”
He quieted me with a hand caressing my face, his thumb resting against my lips as he closed his mouth over one of my nipples. A gentle, perfect suck, and then a long, lazy drag of his tongue that was so good it made my stomach contract, and cave inward. He did it again, on the other side, and I brought my hands to his head, keeping him there.
Well… trying.
There was zero effort to him taking his lips further south, trailing kisses along the line I’d caressed just minutes ago. There was no rush to it, either. Slow, deliberate, loving kisses, especially once he reached the subtle curve of my bump, made even smaller by me being on my back.
It wasn’t all sweetness though – his eyes were hooded with lust as he pushed his fingers into me again, staring past my little bump to look me right in the face as he ran his tongue between my lower lips. My head fell back when he stretched my legs wide, breaking eye contact to bury his face between my legs. His hands went under me, gripping my ass cheeks as he lifted me up for better, deeper access, circling his tongue in places that still made me blush, but also… made me scream.
His name, nickname, field position, all of it fell from my lips with abandon, because it felt just that damn good. Something about the hormones coursing through me made every touch more electric, every sensation more vivid, everything just… better. Which was saying a lot, because the sex had always been amazing, but this was different.
My throat was raw, legs weak, core throbbing with the aftershocks of orgasm by the time he lowered me, then moved to position himself between my legs. I kept my eyes closed, anxiously awaiting the sweet pressure of him inside of me, but it didn’t come.
He hooked one of my legs over his arm then wrapped his free hand around his dick. My halfway-sitting-up position gave me a perfect view of what he was doing – only adding to the pleasure that coursed through me as he rubbed it over my clit, teasing me again.
“Ramse—mmm!”
Before I could even say anything, he’d dipped his thumb into me and then put it my mouth to quiet me – so fast that he had to have been planning to do it as soon as I tried to speak. He smirked as I scowled at him, but a moment later I was moaning around his thumb as he finally sank into me.
He only managed a few strokes before he flipped us over, pulling me on top of him. As soon as I was firmly grounded, his hands went to my hips. He guided me as I rode him, then moved those hands to my breasts. I pushed everything out of my head, except how good it felt to be filled like this, how hot his hands were, the skill of his fingers as they worked my nipples, worked me into a frenzy.
I closed my eyes, rolling my hips as I moved up and down, reveling in the tension building in his thighs, the tightness of his shoulders as I gripped them for leverage.
“So fucking good,” he growled, burying his fingers in my hair to pull my face down to his. He ruined my hair and my makeup at the same time as our lips crashed together, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. His tongue pushed into my mouth, caressing and exploring as he moved his hips, meeting my movements with upward strokes of his own. We were so close together that his pelvis ground against mine, creating the friction that sent me galloping into an orgasm so strong that for a few seconds, I couldn’t see or hear.
He was still moving as my senses filtered back to me, his strokes forcing my climax to go on, and on, and on, rolling over me in waves until he finally slammed into me one last time, with a ragged groan.
We laid there like that for several minutes, sweating and panting and trying to fall into a natural breathing pattern again. And… we did. With him still inside of me, still hard, my inhales and exhales slowly… synced with his. His hands came up, wrapping around me and resting against my back. My head was against his chest, and the strong, steady thump of his heartbeat was so soothing that I closed my eyes, not caring that we had somewhere we were supposed to be.
This was… peace.
I felt like I was walking on eggshells – completely foreign territory for me, when dealing with Ramsey. I’d known it was coming, and had called myself being mentally prepared. But he’d been cool all last week. We’d done our big appointment for the baby two weeks ago, got great results back from all the testing, with a positive report about the baby’s health. He was still on board with not finding out the sex, even though it was written down in an envelope that I would give to Naima and Soriyah, who were planning my shower.
He was happy.
But today… he wasn’t.
He had a plane to get on, in just a few hours. He’d been offered the time off, but insisted he wanted to go. It was an important game. The Kings were contenders for the championship game, and he wanted to be there. I didn’t know where his head would be for tomorrow’s game in St. Louis, but it wasn’t with me now, and it definitely wouldn’t be on the field, not at this rate.
It would be with his mother.
I hated for him to be like this. He hadn’t accepted my offer of anything to eat, had been ignoring his phone all morning. It wasn’t even in the bedroom, where he was. He’d left it in the kitchen hours ago, when he got up for a glass of water that was still sitting on the bedside table, untouched.
He’d declined my offer to bring it to him.
On the other side of the counter, it lit up again, moving across the granite surface as it lit up with a call. This time, I got up and peeked at the screen, smiling a little when I saw Clayton’s name. I loved that his friends and family were all reaching out to him, even if he wasn’t receptive right now.
It was what they should do, on the anniversary of his mother’s birth, and death.
Clayton’s attempted call ended, and the phone went back to it’s normal screen. For a second, my eyes narrowed, but then I smiled as I realized that the image on his “lock screen” was one of him and me, one I’d snapped before we headed out to that twenty week appointment. I was stretched out across him while he lounged on the couch, holding the phone above me.
I loved that picture of us, and apparently so did he. Social media had loved it too – I’d actually posted it across my accounts, getting a little kick out of the fact that to me, I was obviously pregnant in the shot. But it was still a secret.
Not for much longer though.
I only had a few more weeks, if I was lucky, that I could hide underneath bulky sweaters. Our little gummy bear was slowly but surely shifting my belly outward, past what we could pass off as simple “happy weight”. Soon, the world would know I was having a baby.
As if it could read my mind, I flinched as I felt a little jab to the inside of my belly.
I’d already experienced – and cried my eyes out about – the “flutters” of a moving baby, for the first time. That was weeks ago, and since then, the movements were becoming more and more steady, but baby had been shy about moving for anybody except me, growing still whenever anybody else touched my stomach.
But as I looked down at my belly, I watched as, very subtly, he or she… stretched out or something, and then flipped, moving so vigorously that I actually saw my belly moving. When it stayed lopsided, I hopped up from my place at the counter, rushing upstairs to the bedroom.
Ramsey was in bed with his eyes closed, but he wasn’t asleep. His eyes popped open when I practically dived on top of him, grabbing his hands to put them on my stomach.
“Wil, what in the world—”
“Just…shh,” I urged, smiling at him. He looked so drained, so wounded, so… not himself. Silently, I prayed, asking God to give him peace to get through today, and the day after that, and the next one. Ramsey’s expression shifted from confusion to annoyance, but I held his hands, urging him to just wait.
A moment later, I felt that familiar thump again. And then again. And again. And then Ramsey’s eyes went wide as my stomach shifted under his hands, like the baby was changing position again.
“Holy shit,” he whispered, staring between me and my belly with a look of wonderment that brought the tears I’d been fighting all day to my eyes. “That’s… that’s the baby?”
I nodded, smiling at him as I took my hands off his to wipe my face. “Yeah.”
“That was…holy shit,” he chuckled, giving me a grin – a beautiful sight I hadn’t experienced all day. “That was amaz— there it is again! That’s what that is, right? That thumping?”
“Yeah,” I laughed, wiping away a fresh stream of tears as I tried to hold it together. “I don’t know why it’s so active today.”
His big hands caressed my stomach. “I don’t either. But God knows I needed this.”
He said that just above whisper, so low that I wasn’t sure the words were meant for me. But it struck me so much that I lowered my hands, placing them on top of his again. “Maybe that’s why. Because you need it.”
He kept his gaze trained on my stomach, and didn’t say anything. I started to leave it alone, but then something else occurred to me.
“Do you remember telling me that your mother wanted me and you together, so I could have her grandbabies?”
Then, Ramsey looked up, staring at me like he hadn’t remembered, until just then. But he nodded. “Yeah.”
“So if you think about it, that means this baby is… a physical manifestation of her dreams for you. These movements, on today of all days… her and God working together to remind you.” I took my hands from his to cup his face. “She hasn’t left you, baby. She’s right here.” I moved to touch his chest, over his heart. “And right here,” I added, touching my belly. “In the history, and bloodline of our child. She’s still here.”
For a second, he just stared at me. But then he sat up, wrapping his arms around me so tight it almost hurt, but it was nothing I couldn’t take. I returned his embrace, closing my eyes as he rested his head in the swell of my breasts. The moisture that slowly soaked my shirt brought tears to my eyes too, but I forced myself not to burst into sobs. This wasn’t my moment – it was his. If he felt safe enough, secure enough, to have it with me… I was going to let him.
After several minutes had passed, he looked up. There weren’t any tears in his eyes, but they were red, and I just… knew. He was still feeling raw.
“Thank you for those words, Champ. I needed that,” he said, and I smiled.
I opened my mouth to say you’re welcome, but what came out instead was, “I love you.”
His eyes didn’t go wide. No raised brow, nothing except a subtle brightening of his expression as he pushed forth a grin. Because he wasn’t surprised. My quiet admission was simply a statement of a truth we both already knew.
He grabbed my chin, pulling my mouth to place a gentle kiss on my lips.
“I love you too.”
“You’re killing me here, Ramsey. Seriously. Me and your money. We’re dead. Done for. Finito.”
I chuckled into the line as I peeked up the stairs, making sure Wil was still occupied, trying on all 32 – or so it seemed – pairs of maternity jeans she owned.
“Tariq, stop being dramatic. I’m an ideal client, bruh.”
He scoffed. “You used to be ideal. Now we’re paying for baby doctors, Clayton called me about your budget for a house, and now you want to know if you can spend how much?”
“It’s not cars and gold chains, damn,” I laughed. “Cut me some slack.”
“Cut me some slack,” he countered, with amusement in his tone. “You know I’m just giving you a hard time… mostly. Your wealth is still in recovery from the costs for your mother’s care. You’re okay. I just want you to be mindful. You sure you can’t wait until that SuperBowl bonus check comes through?”
I shook my head. “That’s not even guaranteed yet, haven’t finished playoffs. And even if it was… money is already spent. “
“Don’t remind me. Please don’t call me after you’ve written the check next time,” Tariq complained, and it was easy for me to visualize him shaking his head. Tariq Evans was usually laid back – when it wasn’t about the money of the athletes he worked with. He’d been my financial advisor for not-nearly long enough. I didn’t have the sense to have somebody managing things for me at first, but I was glad to have learned that lesson, and gotten Tariq working on it for me before it was too late.
“Got it,” I told him. “But I gotta let you go, so we can head out. I want to make it there before everyone else does.”
“Okay, man. And good luck today. Let me know how it goes. And keep your checkbook in your damn pocket, please.”
I laughed as we got off the phone, and then went upstairs to grab Wil, who I found pulling a thick sweater-dress over her head.
“What happened?” I asked. “You gave up on the jeans?”
She nodded. “I gave all the way up on the jeans. They are apparently not in the plans for me, not today. I’m ready now though,” she said, fluffing out her hair. “Did I hear you on the phone?”
“Yeah, that was Tariq.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Your finance guy? Is everything okay? It wasn’t about today, is it? Because I told you I could—”
“Will you hush, woman?” She tried her best to hold a scowl, but it melted as soon as I pulled her close, slipping my hands under her dress to caress her stomach. At six months pregnant, her belly was well pronounced – so much that it was damn near impossible to camouflage. Because of it, she’d been stuck in the house the last few weeks, even going to the length of conducting an interview via Skype, which really wasn’t ideal for her.
After today though, she wouldn’t have to hide.
“I hope you aren’t trying to start anything,” she said, in a low, seductive voice as my fingertips brushed the lacy edge of whatever panties she was wearing.
I put my mouth to her ear. “Why you always think I’m starting something.”
“Because you are.”
“Or maybe you’re just always wanting something, how ‘bout that?” I teased, cupping her belly again. “I’m just seeing if the baby is awake, get your mind out of the gutter.”
“Only because we really do have somewhere to be.”
She slipped away from me, sitting down on the edge of the bed to put on her shoes, and I just watched her. She was so chill lately – not really stressing about the baby, not worried about paparazzi, none of that. I knew she was busy a lot, which kept her going too much to worry about outside shit, but something about her whole vibe, since the pregnancy, was just different.
Happiness.
Something nudged the back of my mind, implanting that word. And maybe that’s what it was – she was just, finally, back to happy again, which was the natural set point of the woman I’d long considered my friend. It radiated off of her, even her appearance. Her eyes were brighter, smile was bigger. And even the changes the pregnancy had brought to her body, I hadn’t heard her complain, not even once. She’d expressed frustration about the fit of her clothes, but it was always this is too small not I’m too big. She’d embraced it, and… I was glad.
Pregnancy was sexy as hell on Wil.
Her teasing about always starting something was based on the truth. I’d already had a hard time keeping my hands off her, and it was only amplified now. Luckily for me, her appetite seemed to match mine, and she was always down. Today though… we couldn’t act on those urges.
At least not until later.
For now, we had to get up to my place in Harlem. We walked inside, and were alone for maybe five minutes before the doorbell chimed, and it seemed like it didn’t stop chiming for the next hour as we let in stylists and makeup artists and a hair stylist, and photographer and crew, and whoever else decided to show up, apparently. It was early for a maternity shoot, but this was important to Wil, and after what she’d been through to have this baby, there was nothing that would make me deny her the opportunity to announce her pregnancy in style.
Besides – if she decided she wanted to do another one later… we were doing another one later.
For now though, I hung back as they got shots that were just of her – surrounded by multicolor rose petals in my oversized tub, in a regal gown in front of the big windows. Then, there were ones of me and her, with her belly exposed in one of my button-ups as we relaxed in bed. And then, what I considered the “fun” shots – both of us in “Bishop” jerseys, in front of a solid black backdrop. I was seated in a throne – that I didn’t know or care where the photographer had found, but the shit was fresh – with my helmet hanging off the side. Wil was in my lap, still done up all glamorous, but with stripes of eye black at the top of her cheeks, just because we were corny, and I didn’t care, cause my lady was happy.
Her belly was exposed, and she was wearing a crown that suited her nicely. Through the miracle of some kind of cosmetic glue, her baby bump was wearing a little crown too – gender neutral, since we didn’t know yet.
Chloe was at the ready, with instructions for the photographer – once he got this shot, it needed to go to her social media team immediately. We’d already approved the caption she wanted to use when it was posted to mine and Wil’s social media accounts.
“Watch the Throne.”
Wil was absolutely giddy when we finally got the thumbs up. It was a weight off her back that we’d no longer have to hide the pregnancy from the world.
She jumped up off my lap, making the camera crew laughed as she danced to the music that was pumping in the background, looking absolutely silly with that crown stuck to her stomach.
“Come here,” I told her, not standing up. Instead, I pushed myself out of my seat and down to the floor, on one knee in front of her. She’d glanced away, her attention grabbed by the sight of her father on the other side of the room. While she was distracted, I snagged the black velvet box I’d tucked behind me in the chair.
“Ramsey… what is going on?” she asked, as the rest of our family and friends came into view, after sneaking in while we were doing the other shot. When she looked back to find me on one knee, her hands flew up to her mouth.
I hope to God I’m not about to embarrass myself.
“Wil… I love you. You know that right?”
Her eyes filled with tears as she nodded. “Yes. I love you too.”
“Well… a very wise man told me that when I knew… I shouldn’t hesitate. This is me not hesitating,” I said, opening the box to show her the 4 carat, cushion-cut diamond, set into an etched rose gold ring that had Tariq ready to cry earlier in the morning when he found out I’d pulled the trigger on it. “Wil, I’m not… a wealthy man. There are certain things I can’t give you right now, but I can promise you – neither you nor our child will ever lack anything you need. I love the way you carry yourself, your passion for your career. I love that you love sports, and you’re big on family, and you’re an amazing friend. I know for the last few months we’ve been more than that, but the friend that you’ve been, through my loss, and through getting back on the team, your genuine happiness for me, and the support you’ve shown… I could go on and on, honestly. But I’ll get to the point. I want you to be my wife, Champ. Will you marry me?”
“Yes,” she blubbered immediately. “Hell yes!”
Her hands were shaking as I pulled the ring from the box to slide on her finger, then stood to pull her into my arms. Well, after I gently peeled that crown off her stomach.
As I kissed her, it really was like we were the only people there. I knew there were at least thirty camera phones on us, but all I wanted to do was love on the woman who’d just agreed to be my wife.
And apparently, she was thinking the same thing.
She was pressing herself into me more and more, her hands moving under my jersey to slide her fingers along my abs. My dick was responding enthusiastically to her little moans, and to her hands, and the heat of her body, and I pulled back from the kiss enough to announce, completely seriously, that, “Aiight, it’s time for y’all to go home. Everybody. Get out. We’ll see y’all later.”
My statement was met with laughs, but Clayton and Soriyah were the ones who seemed to understand that I was serious. I pulled Wil back to the bedroom as they corralled everyone to leave, but stopped for a second, going back to confer with Clayton. Soriyah had flown in for this, as a surprise to Wil, and I didn’t want her to feel slighted. Clayton said he would take care of it, making dinner arrangements for all of us, for a little later in the night, and making sure Soriyah got back to Connecticut okay.
When I went back to the room, I found Wil standing in the middle of the floor. One hand curved around her stomach, the other held up to the light, examining her new engagement ring with a look of pure joy.
“So you like it huh?” I asked, startling her a little.
She pressed her hand to her chest, and nodded. “Yes. I love it. I love you,” she repeated, reaching up to pull her crown off as lust darkened her eyes.
“Nah,” I said, catching her by the wrist. “You can keep that on.”