I’d met his parents, three times.

They’d been to Denver twice. The second time for a nice visit. The first time Carl came out with Knight’s Mom to deal with Nick.

Nick now lived in Hawaii with Carl riding his ass. He was clean of blow, Carl’s first order of business. But he was still “dicking around” (Knight’s words). Though, “At least it gives Dad somethin’ to do. He doesn’t golf. He doesn’t surf. He doesn’t garden. He cracks heads. He was goin’ crazy. Now he’s got a head to crack,” (also Knight’s words).

We’d also gone out to see them. When we did, we saw Nick. To me, he’d changed. He was far less of an asshole and he’d actually found a quiet moment just him and me to apologize and, I thought, do it sincerely. Knight warned me not to be fooled. He explained Nick could get contrite then Nick could turn back into an asshole. Luckily, while we were there, he didn’t slide back into the asshole.

And, it should be noted that although Nick took the time to apologize to me, he didn't take the time to apologize to his brother. Something I didn’t like all that much. Something Knight took in stride. Therefore something that clearly had happened before, repeatedly, this an assumption I’d made that Knight had confirmed when I asked him.

I tried to smile through my tears and replied, “Good.”

“Dad’s pleased.” He kept sharing.

“Good,” I repeated on a hitched breath.

His arms left me so his hands could cup my jaw, his thumbs sliding through the wet on my cheeks and he ordered softly, “Baby, quit crying.”

I drew in a shaky breath. This didn’t work so I drew in another one.

On the fourth, I got it together.

“That’s it,” he muttered, his thumbs still moving through the wet.

I held onto him and held his eyes.

“You’re carrying my baby,” he whispered.

“Yeah,” I confirmed.

“You’re carrying my baby,” he repeated, his voice lower, gruff, thick.

I felt my nostrils quiver but I held it together and nodded.

His forehead dropped to mine, his nose slid along mine but his hands never left my face and I held my breath as he whispered with feeling, “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.”

Slowly, I closed my eyes.

He wanted this, my man. He wanted me to have his baby.

I opened my eyes.

“You’re happy?” I guessed, my voice quiet but the words were still pitched high with hope.

“Fuck, baby, yeah. Fuck yeah. You got my baby in you.”

“I was worried you’d be angry,” I admitted and his face went away just an inch.

“I get that. We haven’t discussed it. Though, sayin’ that, been thinkin’ for a while about talkin’ to you about it. Puttin’ that ring on your finger reminded me I needed to get to that. Fate jumped the gun. I’m not complaining.”

God, God, God.

I loved this man.

“So you want kids?” I ventured even though the answer was obvious.

Still, it was good I asked because he smiled and I loved to watch Knight smile.

“Absolutely.”

“How many?”

“Two,” he said immediately.

“Boys or girls?”

“Boys,” he said again immediately and I blinked.

“Really?”

“Babe, my life, girls?” He shook his head and kept shaking it when he went on, “Your beauty, even a little of it, you give that to our baby?” He stopped shaking his head and his fingers gave me a gentle squeeze. “Fuck no. I’ll need to buy more guns and hire more men.”

I giggled.

“Make me boys,” he ordered.

I giggled again.

Then I pointed out the obvious, “Not sure I can yield on that, sweetheart. Think that’s up to destiny.”

His mouth came to mine and he continued being bossy.

“Do the best you can do.”

“Okay, Knight.”

“All right, baby.”

God, God, God.

I loved this man.

After having that joyous thought, I got serious but did it quietly.

“Honey, you need to quit smoking.”

He held my eyes and instantly agreed, “Yeah.”

I relaxed deeper into him.

“You’re forgetting something,” he whispered against my lips.

“What?” I whispered against his, looking in his beautiful eyes.

“Babe, kiss me.”

I grinned against his mouth.

Then I pressed tight in a variety of places and I kissed him.

His hands left my jaw so his arms could cage me in close, tight, safe and warm and then my Knight kissed me.

* * *

I stood with just my head out the door to the balcony that led from the nursery and, adjusting the telephoto lens, I took the shot. Then another. Then another.

I pulled back. Moving my thumbs over the buttons, I checked the screen at the back of the camera.

Then I smiled.

I got it.

I carefully closed the door without a sound, walked into the room, put the camera on the dresser and walked out.

Then I walked to the kitchen and retrieved my mug of herbal tea.

After that, I moved to the glass doors to the balcony, skirting the sunken living room.

Knight was out there. He was slouched in a chair, feet up on the railing, ankles crossed, mug of coffee on the table beside him.

I moved through the doors to the empty chair angled toward his and caught the glimmer of sun glinting on the gold band on his finger that was on his hand which was resting on our baby girl’s rounded, diaper-covered booty. She was curled, dimpled knees tucked under her, little fist resting beside her face, asleep on her Daddy’s Black Sabbath tee-covered chest.

I sat in my chair, holding my cup aloft as I lifted my own legs and carefully positioned them resting over my man’s thighs.

Knight trailed a finger light along the skin on the outer side of one of mine and tingles radiated out from my skin even as they went up my spine, my neck to cover my scalp. Then he rested his hand curled around the top of my thigh, close to the apex of my legs, the pads of his fingers on my inner thigh.

“Get the shot?” he muttered, eyes to the Range.

Jeez. He noticed everything.

I lifted my mug to my lips.

“Yep.”

“Babe, she’s a couple weeks old. You keep fillin’ the house with frames, we won’t be able to move through it.”

I took a sip, eyes to the Front Range and staying there, I swallowed and replied, “So, buy us a bigger house.”

“That I can do,” he murmured instantly.

Yes.

Oh yes.

God, God, God.

I loved this man.

I looked to him and got his profile, strong, aggressive, unbelievable male beauty.

I looked to my daughter, my little Ekateirna, baby Kat, and her eyes drifted open and closed then they opened and I knew she probably couldn’t but it looked like she focused on me.

I reached out, stroked her super soft, chubby cheek and grinned into her clear, pure, Prussian blue eyes that I knew in my heart would stay that way.

Then her eyes drifted closed.

I dropped my hand over Knight’s on my thigh. His twisted and curled around mine.

My eyes drifted to the Range and I sipped my tea, living a life I never expected, living a dream I never even tried to dream, living it now entirely dream free.

Except, of course, the real ones sitting in the sun, one holding my hand and one sleeping next to me.