Sitting at the kitchen table, my brothers and I are eating Momma Joe’s lasagna and garlic knots when my phone chimes.

-Is Momma Joe okay?

- Good evening, kitten. She’s with you, so I assume you’d know better than I. What’s going on?

- Just a weird feeling.

- Are you feeling extremely sensitive right now?

It takes her several minutes to respond.

-No!

I can’t help chuckling.

-Enjoy.

-Taelyn and her seem to be off, Zandor. Any reason?

-I love you.

-Ugh!

- Enjoy the spa, Kitten.

I sit back and chuckle.

“Everything good?” Jase asks.

I nod. “Of course.”

After they eat, it’s time to say good-bye to them for a couple of hours.

I go to the basement and grab a box, carrying it upstairs and into the now empty playroom. I set it in the middle of the floor and look around.

It’s empty and, in just a couple of months, it is going to look like Jase, Cyrus, and Xavier’s family rooms—wall to wall with toys. What they don’t buy, Momma Joe does.

I want it to be … different. I want it better than she had it growing up, for her and me.

In the garage, I grab an old toolbelt that Falcon left behind when he was helping me out with the bathroom remodel. Who the fuck am I kidding? He did it, and I stuck around and learned something. What I learned is I look good in a toolbelt.

I put it on, making sure there is a hammer and a few nails stuffed in the pockets, and then I walk back into the playroom.

I open the box and start pulling out pictures, laying them out around the perimeter of the room.

Family. Hers, mine, and us. Lots and lots of us.

I want this room to be about how our child came to be, and he came to be, because of love.

I lose track of time, getting lost in placement, switching it around again and again.

When I hear a gasp, I look up.

“What have you done?” She immediately has tears in her eyes, emotions boiling over.

“You aren’t supposed to be here,” I tell her, walking over to her.

“Zandor …” She shakes her head, more tears falling.

I hold her tight as she cries.

When she steps back, she’s smiling and shaking her head. I wipe her tears away.

“You are amazing,” she says, sniffling. “Momma Joe told me to—”

“Do you have any idea how much I love you?” I reach out and push a blonde curl away from her face.

Her head falls left. She opens her mouth to speak, yet nothing comes out.

“The first time I opened up to you about what I need sexually, you were hesitant. I told you I saw in you the same, and you asked me: What if you’re wrong?”

She shrugs. “You weren’t.”

“I knew I wasn’t wrong about you. For a moment, though, I was wrong about the false confidence you tried to exude.”

“I told you I didn’t want all of it. The kink. The clubs. The-”

“Yet you accept it, embrace it, and enjoy it. You’ve shown me otherwise. I made you come on a dance floor, surrounded by people. You allowed yourself to be completely consumed by the pleasure I was giving you. You allowed my hand to be down your pants in the lobby of a hotel. I fucked your tits, and your tongue lapped at my cock before I was ever inside you. The way you sucked my cock, taking it nearly all into your mouth to please me … and in turn, it pleased you.”

God, I want her, but not now. Not tonight.

“I bound your arms the very first time I fucked you. I licked cream from your body and fucked your pussy with fruit, and then ate it out of you. We’ve done that so often, still it’s insanely hot every time.”

She nods.

“I touched an untouched part of you, not giving you too much, allowing you to take what you could handle. I’ve pushed you, and you’ve fucking taken it all.”

Christ, I’m hard.

“There are still times when I need to let you know I’m in control, and times when I need to let go.”

She looks past me and around at the room. I see sadness and possible regret in her eyes.

I cup her chin, bringing her eyes back to me, and smile. “You were right. I need to give up a little control now.”

“No … I mean, yes, but …” She looks around again. “I didn’t want it all to go away. I love feeling the way you make me feel, Zandor Steel.”

“It’ll never go away. But you’re right; our child doesn’t need to be face-to-face with our sex life daily.” I smirk. “I mean, I think maybe we should soundproof our bedroom, but...”

“Where did it all go? God, I don’t think I want it gone.” She looks shocked and confused by her own statement.

“It’ll never go away, Kitten. But you … You need to go back to the hotel, because—”

“Oh, my God, we’re getting married tomorrow!” She laughs as she cries. “I can’t believe you tricked me!”

I shrug. “I love you. I love our child. It was selfish not to consider—”

“You’re not selfish,” she says, hugging me tightly.

“Yes, I am. I’m selfish because I want to watch you smile, and flip through picture books, and talk to our child about the day we married and how beautiful and loved you felt. If we have a little girl, I want her to see how much her mom loves a man deserving of her love.”

I lean in to kiss my wife when I hear Momma clear her throat.

“Busted,” I whisper against her lips.

“Let’s go, Bekah George. You’re getting married tomorrow, young lady,” Momma says in mock annoyance.

To that, Bekah grins.

“We’re really doing this?” she asks.

I nod. “Yes, absolutely.”