“It’s not safe for the baby for you to play paintball, Baby Girl,” he tells me gently in that deep, husky voice of his, his thumb brushing the tears from my face. I heave a sigh, knowing he’s right, but hating that there feels like so much I can’t do, or eat because I’m growing a baby. “But,” he adds, a mischievous twinkle in his ice blue eyes, “if you want to watch from the viewing platform, I’ll shoot Ash in the dick just for you.”
