Chapter 31 Iwas starting to feel like a whale. A sarcastic, mildly charming whale with excellent taste in maternity loungewear that I didn't need to pay for, but a whale, nonetheless. Seven months in. I'd officially reached the point where rolling over was a three-step process and putting on socks felt like scaling Everest, and my stomach was the size of a normal full-term pregnancy - maybe bigger. Bedrest hadn't been that bad the first couple of weeks. I'd at least been able to coordinate shifting my job to a maternity cover hire and talk lesson plans and course material from bed, but once the handover was done and the forced relaxation, naps, snacks, and endless hours of streaming lost its luster, I well and truly felt like I was inching into prison territory. Still, though, I masked the restlessness as much as I could with Zach and let it out around Matt instead - with sass and sarcasm and a revolving door of threats about Matt eating his packed lunch. But just after nine, with the house quiet, Zach tucked in upstairs, and Margot off for her usual couple of days, I wasn't as agitated as usual. I scrolled through my phone, half-watching a baking competition rerun, waiting for Matt to finish whatever business call he'd said he needed to take over an hour ago. But then he was there, filling the doorway, his eyes a little brighter than usual as he watched me. "Put your phone down," he said softly, his lips twitching upward. "I've got a surprise for you." I raised a brow at him. "If it's another pair of those socks with the rubber grippies on the bottom that make me feel like a mental patient, I'm staging a coup." He snorted and crossed to the bed. "It's not. Promise," he grinned, leaning down and hooking an arm under my legs. "Come on." "Oh, my God, you're not carrying me," I laughed, trying to squirm away from his arm, but I was too goddamn big to move easily. His other came around my back. "Matt, I'm enormous⁠-" "You're glowing." "I'm the size of a fucking sedan." In one quick movement, he hoisted me up against his chest without so much as a grunt. "Then let's take you for a test drive." I snorted. "Romance truly isn't dead." "Well, I wasn't going to let you penguin-waddle across the floor in your non-grippie socks," he smirked, turning sideways to get us out the door of the downstairs suite. "Just keep thinking of it as romantic." "You're deranged," I said, letting my head fall against his collarbone. "Just humor me, sweetheart." His lips pressed against my temple, quick, fleeting, as he carried me through the kitchen and toward the already-open back door. I blinked at the change. The usually quiet, secluded back patio had been transformed - blankets and cushions spread out across the floor, twinkling fairy lights strung along the railing, soft music playing low from a hidden speaker. There was a candlelit tray with an assortment of desserts, and a bottle of chilled rosé sitting in an ice bucket in the center, a little bouquet of white tulips sitting in a vase next to it. The bite in the air was minimal tonight, the southern swing of cold to freezing having swung back to almost-spring temperatures. "Is that non-alcoholic?" I asked, blinking at the setup. What is he planning? "Obviously." "Can't believe you went with the picnic theme again." He snorted, crossing the decking toward the array. "Don't start." "You have such a type," I grinned, looking up at him. "Yeah, well," he started, slowly setting me down on the cushions like I weighed nothing, "I'd have taken you back to Massachusetts for another one if the trees weren't dead and we wouldn't freeze our asses off. And I'm pretty sure your OB said no more flying." "Aww," I teased. "You missed our first date." He rolled his eyes as he threw a blanket around my shoulders before sitting down opposite me. "You think that was our first date? Not the restaurant back in Tulum?" I leaned back into the cushions, lifting my knees a little and resting my hand on my stomach. "Nah. Tulum was nice, and don't get me wrong, it had first-date vibes, but you weren't serious then. Massachusetts was serious-Matt." "What was Tulum then?" "Horny-Matt-who-had-feelings-but-had-no-idea-what-to-do-with-them," I said simply. "Obviously." He rolled his eyes, but his lips played at the corners. "Eat your damn dessert, you menace." We sat in easy quiet as I picked at all the little desserts he'd arranged, trusting him this time not to poison me. He poured out two glasses of the zero-percent rosé, and I picked mine up, tilting my head toward the sky. "Full moon's out," I said, tilting my chin toward it high up in the sky. "If we get attacked by werewolves, I'm not waiting for you to fight them off. I'm beelining inside and locking the door." He snorted. "Appreciate the loyalty." "I'm just saying," I grinned. "Putting the mother of your kids in danger just for a date? Shameful." He laughed, stretching his legs a bit, one hand reaching over casually to cover mine. But he was fidgeting - just barely, his thumb tapping, his weight shifting on his rear. His jaw clenched a little, then relaxed, like he was mentally cataloguing every little movement he made. I sniffed at the wine once, then took a sip. "This tastes like the grapes got cold feet and chickened out of being wine." His mouth twitched. "It's the best zero-percent I could find." I narrowed my eyes at him. "The best? Are you trying to bribe me into silence, or seduce me?" "Yes." I snorted. "You're still going to have to wait another few months for much more than a hand job," I said. "You say that like you're not begging me every night to say, 'fuck the OB's rules' and take you," he countered, his head turning to me, something flickering behind those stupidly attractive hazel eyes. "Yeah because I haven't had an orgasm in over a fucking month," I whined. "I'm desperate." Matt tutted. "Too risky." I glared at him. He chuckled, his fingers squeezing mine. "I promise I'll give you so many that your brain stops working the second you're not on pelvic rest anymore," he said softly. "Don't think I'm not forever grateful for you going through this. I'll be severely in your debt for the rest of my life for it." I blinked. That-that was sweeter than I was expecting from him. He turned slightly, his body angling toward mine. "I wanted to talk to you about something," he murmured, his voice a little quieter. Heat prickled my cheeks. "Right, it's all making sense now," I teased, but the normal spark in my voice was dampened, my nerves rising just a little. "Is this the part where you finally say you love me? I mean, you've only moved me into your house and rearranged your entire life for me. The suspense is unbearable." Deflection. It was stupid, but it was the only way I knew how to deal with things right now. He smiled, but it was a bit crooked, his gaze flicking away from me and then back like he wasn't entirely confident for once. "I meant it," he said, "when I told you I wanted to do this properly, back at the hospital. I didn't know exactly what that meant at the time. I just knew that I desperately didn't want to keep making you feel like you were holding your breath, just waiting for me to disappear." I stilled. He shifted again, sitting up until he was cross-legged, fully facing me. "The beginning was messy, Sienna. I know that. I handled it horribly. I didn't know how to do any of this without pulling back the second anything felt real. And then I wanted to fix it, wanted to try, but you told me you were pregnant, and I'd already fucked up twice, and the stakes were so much higher, and I thought-fuck, I thought there was no way you'd believe me with just words that I was all in. I know I tried, but all I could do was show you." My throat closed in. "You did," I whispered. His lips twitched up a little. "I fell in love with you somewhere in the middle of all that showing," he continued, his hand tightening around mine, his gaze dropping to it. "I didn't notice it at first. But I know it now. It's not-Fuck, it's not the kind of love that comes with strings or conditions, not the kind I was terrified of. It's just there. Everywhere. Overwhelming. All-consuming." I blinked, my eyes burning. "Matt⁠-" "I love you," he said, lifting his gaze back to mine. "I have for a while. I just didn't know how to say the words right. And I-shit." He reached behind him, hand shaking just a little as he fumbled around beneath a pillow. He pulled out a box. A very, very small box. My brain completely short-circuited as he opened it. Inside, a ring sat on a little pillow that was just ostentatious enough to look like it belonged in a goddamn museum. A delicate yellow diamond, oval shaped, with two clear, square diamonds on either side, a gold band that shimmered under the soft twinkle of the fairy lights - it was warm and bold and nothing like the ones I'd imagined in the past. This was me. Or maybe us. "You were wearing that stupid fucking yellow dress in the lounge when I first met you," he said, his voice hoarse, rough, cracking at the edges. "I've never been able to shake that memory. You looked like summer was sitting in the middle of the room and was daring me to try not to melt around it." I choked on something between a laugh and a sob, my hand covering my mouth. "I know it's fast," he murmured, "and we've done everything backward. But I don't care. I want this, I want you, I want our girls. I want to do every hard thing, every stupid fight, every long day. All of it, with you." My jaw quivered, a shaky, broken breath escaping me. "Sienna, marry me." I choked on a sob. "You asshole," I whispered, tears sliding over my cheeks. "You romantic, ridiculous asshole." His lips quirked up at the corner. "Is that a yes?" I laughed, nodding when my mouth wouldn't work properly, trying to take enough of a steady breath to actually respond. "I love you. Christ, I love you, yes, of course, yes." He let out a harsh breath, his hand shaking as he plucked the ring out of the box, barely holding it steady enough to slip over the first knuckle of my ring finger. I could barely see through the blur of tears, but I felt the pressure when he got to the next knuckle, the way it didn't want to move forward any further, the way his shoulders started to silently shake with laughter. "Fuck," he muttered, barely containing his laugh. "I'm, uh-I'm just now realizing that maybe I shouldn't have relied on the ring sizes that the stylist at Regale took of you pre-pregnancy." A full-blown cackle burst out of me. "Matt, my hands have been swollen for, like, four weeks!" He tipped forward, his head falling onto my shoulder, his body shaking with laughter. "I'm an idiot," he laughed. "There's no point in resizing this for two months." "No," I snorted. "None at all." "I'll get you a placeholder one in the meantime." He slid it off my finger, tucking it neatly back in the box before setting it beside him. "You don't need⁠-" "I'm not having you walking around ringless as my fiancée," he grinned, lifting back up to look me in the eyes. He took my face in his hands, his face softening as if I were something precious, all those hard lines smoothing out, and kissed me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered. Well, me and Zach and the girls. "Matt," I deadpanned, my voice barely a whisper against his lips. "I'm not walking around anywhere. I'm basically decorative at this point."