CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“What are you reading to her tonight?”
We’re having a girl!
Rock tips the book my way so I can see the front. “Machiavelli? Seriously? Not Good Night Moon or something more fetus appropriate?”
I could stare at his handsome face smiling up at me all night. “Nah, this is a classic map of how to achieve power.”
His answer amuses me. I’m not terribly surprised, though. “Are you grooming our daughter to take over the MC?”
Another feral grin. “Maybe.” Slowly the laughter slips away. “No matter how much we shelter her, our daughter’s going to grow up in a brutal, unfair world.” He waves a hand in the direction of the clubhouse. “And I don’t just mean the MC.”
I wait for him to continue, expecting him to say he’ll murder anyone who hurts his daughter or something along those lines.
When he remains silent, I say, “Lately, I think it’s worse on the outside.” At least inside the confines of this club, I’m protected and cherished as I know our daughter will be.
He hums a grave sound of agreement. “I want her to grow up believing nothing is unavailable to her because she’s a girl.”
“Oh,” I breathe out.
I reach for him, running the back of my hand over his bristly cheek. His internal struggle is clear. Maybe more to me than him. It’s the same one I struggle with sometimes now that I’m a part of a world that openly values women as property.
“And,” he adds, a sly note creeping into his tone. “Anyone who puts his hands on her without her permission is getting fucking murdered.”
“Ah, I was wondering when you’d get to that.”
His savage expression slips away and he rubs his hand over my belly again, pushing my tank top out of his way. “I should tell her the story of the lonely, unapologetic criminal who seduced the sweet, innocent lawyer.”
Laughter bubbles out of me. “Maybe when she’s older.”
He spreads soft kisses over my tummy and stares at my bump with so much love.
Perfectly content in this moment, I reach down and run my fingers through his hair. “Rock?”
“Hmm?”
“We haven’t talked about baby names yet. What do you think of calling her Grace?”
“My mother’s name?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “Would that be…if you don’t…”
“No, I love it.” He presses another kiss to my belly, then kisses his way up my body to lie down next to me.
He strokes his fingers over my cheek. “You’re already giving me such a wonderful gift.” His voice comes out husky with emotion and I swoop in to kiss him.
He presses his forehead to mine, creating a cocoon of safety. I slide my hand over his, entwining our fingers and he kisses my knuckles. “Any thoughts on middle names?”
Actually, I have been thinking about it a lot. I lean over and pick up my copy of The Second Sex off my nightstand. “Simone?”
His lips curve up in recognition, but his gaze slides away. “I think that book was banned by the priest at my mother’s church.”
“Oh, really?”
He shrugs, but his eyes remain distant as if he’s lost in the past. “She was a rule-breaker.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“Grace Simone North?” He rolls the name off his tongue a few times, testing it out. “I like it. It’s different but simple.”
“Easy to spell too.”
I run my fingers through his hair while he rests next to my belly, reading softly to the baby. His voice rumbles through me, lulling me into a peaceful, happy state.
Probably the most content I’ve ever been.