Dirty Bastard

So we did. It’s a wonderfully weird house with avant-garde styling, a water fountain in the foyer, a sunken floor for the bedroom, and some strange-ass murals on the walls. The realtor kept trying to convince us that we could paint over everything, but I liked the weirdness of the place. I knew it was going to be mine when I saw there was an exercise room just large enough for my studio, and it’s now covered in delicate pink wallpaper with a light skull-and-crossbones pattern.

So far, being in a house with Knox has been perfect. We let Natalie decorate since she loves that sort of thing, and it brought me even closer to my friend. She wasn’t even upset that I was pregnant and didn’t tell her—she was just excited we’d get to go through this together. I feel a little guilty about that, because Natalie’s pretty much been sick every day of her pregnancy, and I’ve only had a few weird cravings. My baby bump was half the size of hers, and I’ve put on exactly the required amount of weight. Poor Nat. Of course, her sweet little newborn, Esme, makes up for a lot of things, I imagine.

After Knox and I moved in together, it seemed natural to try out the marriage thing. Like everything else with Knox, it’s been effortless. There hasn’t been a day that I’ve regretted it, or that he’s been an asshole. It’s all been . . . perfect.

My husband gazes down at his son with the most besotted expression. “We need a name for this little man. Something has to feel right.”

“We could call him Keith,” I say drily. “Really blow that asshole’s mind.”

Knox shakes his head. “I don’t want my son growing up even knowing who that dickweed is.”

“Me either,” I murmur. Keith hasn’t been a problem, either. About a month after Knox threatened him, Keith got caught breaking into the house of the Luka mayor’s daughter. I guess she was his newest stalking obsession. He’s currently awaiting trial, but Knox has his lawyers all over things to ensure that he goes away for a long time. That’s fine with me. I’d be more than happy to testify against Keith. I’d even be less weird if it’d help sway the jury against him.

“We could name him after you,” Knox tells me. “Alex or Alexander.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Nah. What about Rex?”

“I had a dog named Rex once,” Knox says with a shake of his head. “Bitey fucker. Dexter?”

“Makes me think of the TV show,” I point out. “Let’s go with something that has meaning. What was your mom’s last name?”

Knox’s face grows soft as he looks away from our son and over to me. “Jackson. I don’t know if I’d want to name my kid after her, either. She wasn’t a great mom.”

“Then we reclaim it,” I tell him softly. “We could call him Jaxon—with an X—and make it our own. Get rid of all the bad memories.”

“Jaxon Price. I kinda like it.” Knox gazes at me and then reaches out to caress my cheek. “I love you.”

It doesn’t scare me to hear that sort of thing anymore. In fact, I kind of crave it. “I’m glad you do, because you’re going to be shaving my legs for me for the next few weeks.”

“I can do that,” he tells me with a grin. “My brothers are waiting outside. Should I introduce them to little Jaxon?”

“Sure. I’ll just lie here and bleed quietly,” I tease. I don’t mind, really. I love how excited he is to show off his son, and I’m too tired to entertain right now.

Knox just chuckles and gets to his feet. With the baby tucked against his chest—as if he’s always done this—he leans in and kisses my forehead. “I’ll be back very soon.”

“I’ll be here,” I tell him. And just before he leaves the room, I realize I forgot something important. “Knox?”

He looks back at me, all beard and disheveled hair and gorgeous face. I don’t care that he’s scruffy or younger than me or anything else. He’s mine. “I love you,” I tell him softly. I don’t say it often enough, and I want him to know it.

My sexy husband turns around and returns to my bed, and then comes and gives me a fierce kiss on the mouth. “I love you, too, Lexi Price.”

And now I can let him leave because I know he’ll always come back to me, just like I’ll always come back to him. That’s what you do when you’re two halves of a whole. You just fit together perfectly.