I trace a line over the high arch of her cheekbone, and say, “This is what I want.” I drop my hand. “And this.” I cup her belly. Tears fill her eyes. “I can’t ask you to do that, Davis.” “Do what?” She wraps her arms tight around herself. “Saddle you with another man’s child.” “Saddle me.” It comes out gruff. Resolute. She blinks. “What?” “Cupcake, I want you.” I lean in, meeting her eyes. “That means I take him, too.”
