“You okay?” I ask softly. She nods. “Just tired.” I walk over, kneel in front of her, and rest my forehead gently against her stomach. Her fingers thread through my hair. “I love you,” she murmurs. And then, because I’m me, I glance up with a smirk. “I love you, too. And I can’t wait to fuck more babies into you when you’re ready.” She laughs, breathless and fond. “Jesus, Maddox.” I rise, taking her hand, helping her stand with care. “No,” I say quietly, brushing her hair off her cheek. “Not Jesus. Just me. The man who’s going to spend the rest of his life making sure you know you were never
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