Chapter 27

DELILAH

Leading Wells to my bedroom, I glance back and see him following me with a curious expression. There's something about the way his eyes twinkle, a blend of intrigue and affection, that never fails to make my heart flutter. Once inside, I begin to change, stripping down to my underwear and pulling on an oversized shirt. I can feel his gaze on me and it sends a warm shiver down my spine.

"Are you going to change so we can lie down?" I ask, turning to him, hoping he picks up on the subtle hint. I just need to feel his presence close to me, to forget about the discomfort of my swollen belly for a while and relish the fact that he's here with me.

Wells smiles. "I didn't know we were going to bed."

"We don't have to sleep. But I'm the most comfortable lying down. This baby is coming next month, Wells. I'm uncomfortable and fat. Leave me alone."

"You're not fat," he scolds. His tone makes me feel a little less self-conscious. "You're stunning."

I let out a playful sigh, rolling my eyes in jest. "Either way, I'm getting in bed and turning on a movie. Are you coming or not?"

He stands, removing his jeans and then his shirt, leaving him in nothing but his briefs. I try not to stare at his sculpted body, but it's hard not to appreciate the view. The way his muscles move under his skin, the slight smirk on his face as he catches me looking, makes my heart race. He crawls into bed beside me and pulls the blanket over us. I lean against the headboard, sitting up as I turn on the TV and put on Descendants: The Rise of Red. Wells arches a brow at me, and I shrug, feeling a bit defensive about my choice.

"I've seen the other three, and I have to know what this one is about."

"Whatever you say, Little Doe." His nickname for me always brings a smile to my face. It's his way of reminding me that he sees me as delicate yet strong.

"When the first one came out, I was twelve. I don't care that I'm twenty-one; I love Disney movies."

"Twelve?" he chokes. "When did the first one release?"

"2015."

"I was twenty-nine," he murmurs. "I forget that there's a seventeen-year age gap between us. You don't seem like a typical twenty-one-year-old."

"Hey, I'm almost twenty-two." I laugh, trying to lighten the mood. The age difference never really bothered me, but it's moments like these that make it more apparent.

"I've never asked. When is your birthday?"

"January thirty-first. Yours?"

"February first."

"No fucking way. That's ironic," I exclaim, my eyes widening in surprise. It's crazy how our birthdays are just a day apart. Maybe it's a sign that we were meant to find each other, even with the large age gap.

"Yeah, it is. Now we'll have to celebrate together."

"For sure."

I change the subject, needing to talk about something that's been on my mind.

"Are you gonna want to be in the room when I have the baby?"

"Absolutely." His immediate and firm response is a relief.

I need him there.

"Then I should tell you my birth plan so we're on the same page, and if anything happens to me, you can make sure my wishes are followed." Wells' commitment to being there for the birth means everything to me. I take a deep breath, ready to share my carefully thought-out plan for our baby's arrival.

"I will do whatever you want. Just tell me your plan."

"It's nothing intense. I want to have a vaginal birth unless there's an emergency. I'm getting an epidural, and God forbid anything happens during the birth and you have to choose me or the baby. Choose me. I can have another baby. I have a lot of things left to do in my life." Saying it out loud makes the reality of childbirth more tangible and terrifying.

"Is that all?"

"Oh, and I want to do skin-to-skin immediately and no bath for a few days. I hear it's better for them."

"Okay."

"That's it? Just okay? You don't have anything to add?" I probe, wanting to make sure he really understands the gravity of my words.

"Nope. You're the one going to push a baby out of a place one shouldn't fit, so I am going to let you lead the way. It's your body, you know it better than me."

"Thank you." His unwavering support is everything I need right now.

"Names, though. That I want a little bit of a say in. Do you have any ideas?"

"Umm, if it's a boy, I was thinking Channing Wells." I fidget, moving back and forth as I try to get comfortable again. Wells grabs me, positioning me between his legs and pulling me backward so I'm resting against his chest. The warmth of his body against mine is comforting, and I can feel his heartbeat, steady and strong.

"Better?"

"Thanks."

"Welcome. Now, I like Channing Wells. But what about a girl?"

"That's harder, and I'm empty." Naming our daughter feels like an impossible task, and I haven't found the right name that clicks yet.

"Posey Grace," he says, and my heart skips a beat.

"Where did you come up with that so fast?" It's delicate, pretty, and not ordinary—a name that feels just right for our little one.

"Grace is my mom's middle name, and Posey is just a name I've always liked. It means a bunch of flowers, and I remember my great-grandma saying that a bouquet of posies isn't just beautiful on the outside; they smell good too."

"I love it."

"We can look for other options," he says apprehensively.

"No, I like it. Channing or Posey."

I close my eyes, starting to get tired. After a long day, Wells' comforting arms are making it challenging for me to keep my eyes open.

"Little Doe?"

"Mmmhmm."

"Can I take you on a date tomorrow? Lunch and shopping for Little Boba? We can get things for the nursery."

"I have them coming with the movers," I remind him, not wanting to sound ungrateful but also practical.

"Yeah, but what about at my house? When you two come over or stay? Boba should have a room at my house too, yeah?"

"You're right. Yeah, let's do it. But I need to stop sometime tomorrow at the drugstore and get more prenatals. I only have enough for tomorrow."

"Deal."

He kneads my shoulders as I try to watch Brandy reprise her role as the best Cinderella ever. But my eyes get heavy, and his fingers are magic. I lose the battle, falling asleep while Wells holds me.

I wake up to the feeling of Wells' fingers brushing gently through my hair. The room is dim, the TV now playing some late-night infomercial. My vision blurs briefly, and when I regain focus, I find myself looking up at Wells.

"Hey," he whispers, his voice soft in the darkness.

"Hey," I murmur back, my voice thick with sleep.

"You were out like a light."

"It's your fault," I state, stretching and arching my back. "Your fingers are too good at that."

He chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. "I'll take that as a compliment."

I shift a bit, trying to get comfortable again, feeling the soft fabric of the sheets against my skin, the warmth of his touch lingering. "What time is it?"

"A little past two AM."

"Wow, I didn't think I'd sleep that long."

"You needed it," he says, gently stroking my hair. "You're creating life, and I'm sure the move halfway across the country didn't help."

I subtly nod, feeling grateful for his understanding. He has an uncanny ability to anticipate my needs, even when I'm unaware of them. "I guess."

He tilts my chin up so I'm looking into his eyes, his touch lingering on my skin, his gaze both tender and filled with desire. "You're incredible, Delilah. You know that, right?"

I smile, feeling a warmth spread through me, a flush creeping up my cheeks. "Thanks, Wells."

"So, tomorrow," he says, his tone brightening, his fingers trailing down my arm. "I've got the whole day planned out."

"Yeah? What's the plan?" I ask, my voice slightly breathless, anticipation building.

"Well, first, breakfast at a little café I like," he says, leaning closer, his lips brushing against my ear. "Then we can hit up a few baby stores. And I found this place that makes custom nursery decorations. Thought we could get something special for Little Boba."

His closeness sends a shiver down my spine, my heart racing with excitement and desire. "That sounds amazing," I say, my voice lower, huskier, my eyes locked on his.

"And then," he continues, his lips grazing my neck, sending tingles of pleasure through me, "I figured we could do a nice lunch, maybe a walk in the park if you're up for it. And finish the day with dinner wherever you want."

"You're really going all out," I say, my breath catching as his touch ignites a fire within me, desire pooling low in my belly.

"Anything for you and Little Boba," he whispers, his lips brushing against mine.

I lean up and kiss him deeply, my fingers tangling in his hair as our bodies press together, heat rising between us. "You're too good to me."

"I just want to make you happy," he murmurs against my lips, his hands roaming over my body, igniting every nerve.

"You do," I assure him, my voice filled with longing, as I lose myself in his embrace, the world outside fading away.

As I start to drift off again, I can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. For Wells being back by my side, for his love and support, and the little life growing inside me.

The aroma of coffee and bacon wafting through the air stirs me awake. My eyes blink open and I stretch lazily, feeling more refreshed than I have in weeks. I slide out of bed, searching for Wells and a cup of coffee.

I can't help but smile as I walk in the doorway and stop. Wells is busily moving around the kitchen.

"Good morning," I say, padding into the room, my voice still thick with sleep.

"Good morning, beautiful," he replies, turning to greet me with a tender kiss. "I made breakfast."

"You didn't have to do that," I murmur appreciatively, feeling a warm flutter in my chest.

"I wanted to," he says simply, his eyes locking with mine as he sets down a plate piled high with pancakes, crispy bacon, and perfectly scrambled eggs.

We eat together. Conversation flows effortlessly as we discuss our plans for the day ahead.

"Shit. You wanted to go to the café. Why did you cook then?"

"You slept longer than I anticipated. So I cooked. It's no big deal. We can still stop for drinks," he assures me.

Once we finish, I rush to get ready, choosing a flowy maternity dress that accentuates my curves, and slipping on a pair of cozy sandals. Wells, looking effortlessly handsome in a casual shirt and jeans, grabs his keys, and we head out, embarking on our day of baby shopping and bonding.

"How did you get clothes?" I ask.

"Jonas dropped them off when he came to get Derek this morning."

Our first stop is the quaint café around the corner. We find a spot outside, basking in the warmth of the morning sun. Wells orders our drinks while his gaze lingers on me, sending a delightful shiver coursing through my body.

"Ready to do some shopping?" he asks, his voice low and suggestive, his eyes twinkling.

"Absolutely." My pulse quickens at the thought of picking out things for our baby together.

We spend the morning immersed in baby stores, picking out tiny onesies, soft blankets, and playful toys. Wells is attentive and thoughtful, his hand brushing against mine as we select each item, sending tingles of desire through me. When we reach the custom nursery decoration store, we create a personalized ‘You are my Sunshine' sign for Little Boba's room, our fingers touching as we finalize the design.

By lunchtime, we're famished. We find a cozy restaurant nearby and settle into a corner table. The atmosphere is intimate, and I find myself drawn to Wells' magnetic presence across the table. He orders for us, his voice low and smooth, a teasing glint in his eyes that promises more than just a delicious meal.

As we eat, our conversation turns playful, filled with subtle innuendos and shared laughter. The anticipation of becoming parents only heightens our connection, igniting a simmering heat between us. I catch Wells' gaze lingering on me with unabashed desire, and I feel a thrill of excitement.

Afterward, we stroll through the park, hand in hand. The afternoon sun casts a golden hue over us, and I lean into Wells' side.

We walk along the winding paths, occasionally stopping to admire the scenery. As we watch a group of children playing near a fountain, Wells chuckles. "I can't believe how fast the day has flown by. It feels like we just got here."

I glance at the time and laugh. "It's almost like we've been in our own little world. How did it get so late?"

Wells shakes his head with a smile. "I guess time really does fly when you're having fun."

We reluctantly leave the park and head to his favorite restaurant for dinner. The ambiance is warm, with soft lighting and a quiet hum of conversation. We sit close together in a secluded booth, our knees brushing under the table. Wells' hand finds mine, his touch tender and possessive, arousing desire within me.

"I'm so glad we're doing this together," he murmurs, his voice husky with emotion, his eyes locked with mine in a silent promise.

"Me too," I breathe, my voice barely a whisper, overwhelmed by my feelings for him.