The night I get home from Chicago, Gavin is already at the residence. He’s in the kitchen making me dinner, of all things.
“Assembling more than actual cooking, but…I thought you might like a home cooked meal.”
I kiss him with every ounce of my appreciative being.
He winds his hands into my hair, promising that he knows I’ve missed more than just a comforting meal. He tugs, and I close my eyes. “Mmm.”
“You want a glass of wine with dinner?” he asks as he brushes his lips against mine.
“Maybe. Let me go and get changed quick, then I’ll help with the salad.”
Upstairs, I grab one of the pregnancy tests from under the bathroom sink. I stocked up in May when I thought I’d have a parade of positive results and test a couple of days in a row.
Now I’ve been putting off this test because I have a sinking feeling that even though my period is late—by a day or two now—it’s going to be negative.
I’m not wrong.
“I’d love a glass of wine,” I tell Gavin when I re-join him in the kitchen. “Big. Extra. All of it.”
He turns off the burner under the frying pan and pulls me close. “Tell me all about your trip.”
It’s better if he thinks I’m just fried from travel. “Ahh…” I sigh. “It was good, at first, but then it got a bit repetitive. Sometimes I worry I fall into the trap of being a well-meaning person who just can’t shut up, and shutting up and listening is really the most important thing I can do.”
“Wow, that’s kind of heavy.” He lifts my chin with a gentle press of his knuckles. “Are you talking about in academic circles?”
I shake my head. “Not exactly, although yes, there, too. I—” I nervously scrape my teeth across my bottom lip as I hold his gaze. “I got a surprising amount of attention at this conference for being your wife. I’m just a doctoral candidate, Gavin. I should be presenting a poster and completely invisible the entire time, you know?”
“Does that loop back to the well-meaning, but not silent enough stuff, too?”
“I was called on in every session, even when I sat at the back. When experts were on a panel, and their voices needed to be heard. When I didn’t have anything to say!”
“You’re one of the smartest people I know. I’m sure you had something to say.”
“I did. That’s the thing. And sometimes, it was bullshit.”
“Ah.” He’s smiling.
“No, not ah. I’m not a politician, Gavin.”
“I know.”
“Don’t be proud of me for spouting bullshit.” I push lightly against his chest and he leans in, covering my mouth with his.
“But I am,” he whispers after I’m dizzy from kissing. “So proud of you, for stepping out of your comfort zone and handling a challenging situation with grace and class and an extraordinary amount of intelligence.”
“Now that is some grade A political bullshit,” I murmur as I sway against him.
“It's not bullshit. I know for a fact you were impressive because it was all over the news.”
Oh. God. “How much of the coverage was on global migration of women and children?” You know, the whole point of the conference.
“All of your answers were on point.” I growl lightly, and he tugs my hair again. “I’m sorry, though. I know you’d prefer to just be Ellie at these things.”
“You don't need to be sorry. I do quite like being Mrs. Gavin Strong, you know. Even when it involves news cameras. I'm just tired and cranky.”
He pitches his voice lower, to a sexy, urgent rub of words. “You need wine, and dinner, and a good, hard spanking.”
I do. All three. Gavin's spankings unlock something in me and help me refocus my energy.
Plus they make him hard, and me wet, and then we have spectacular sex, which is also great for one's spirit.
“I’m going to risk sharing one more thing,” he adds. “There were some pictures of you heading to yoga one day.”
I give him a wary look. “Mmm?”
He grins. “Are the dark purple yoga tights new?”
I bought them with him in mind. “Yes.”
“I like them a lot.”
“Okay. I want my wine and dinner and spanking now.”
He hands me my wine glass. “And you shall have all three, my bride.”
We get the SOS text message from Max a week later. It’s baby time. Violet has gone into labour, and everyone is welcome to join them at the hospital.
Gavin clears his schedule for the rest of the day and off we go. Sasha is getting out of a cab as we arrive, and she comes upstairs with us to get the lay of the land, then disappears again in search of flowers.
We announce ourselves to the clerk at the desk, then take a seat in the waiting room. Max pops out briefly to give us a contraction update—Violet’s getting close, for sure—and then he disappears again.
When Sasha returns, she’s got Lachlan, Hugh, and Beth in tow, and then others spill in after that.
Two hours after we arrive, Max re-appears in the doorway of the waiting room. “I’m a dad,” he announces as we rush to his side. “Violet’s holding our son. My boy. I have a boy! His name is Noah. And I’m his dad.”
Gavin gives him a big, tight hug with back thumping, then it’s my turn, and everyone else gets a good squeeze in, too.
He goes to check on his new little family, and promises to bring Noah out so we can see him soon.
I turn to Beth, who is crying happy tears that match my own. “A boy,” I whisper to her, overwhelmed with happiness for Max and Violet. “How amazing.”
Gavin tugs me close, his arms going around my waist as he presses his face into my hair. He wants this, too. I close my eyes and sink into his strength, letting him hold me. We can’t rush starting a family. It’ll happen, one way or another, and until it does, we’re blessed with a new nephew-of-our-hearts.
The next time Max appears, he’s holding a baby. His baby. A swaddled, flannel-wrapped bundle of perfection.
Beth is closest, so she takes him in her arms and oohs and ahhs over how perfect he is. My arms ache to hold him, too, and when she passes Noah over—ever so carefully, because he’s the most precious little person in the world right now—I can’t get over how light he is.
And how beautiful he is, too. Tiny nose, tiny mouth, fuzzy blond hair.
Little Noah takes my breath away.
When it’s Gavin’s turn to hold him, he lays Noah carefully along his forearm and rocks the baby back and forth like an uncle with a lot of practice at that, which he is.
He’s going to be the world’s greatest dad, I tell myself, and my insides tighten up.
“Hey, little man,” my husband says, rubbing the tip of his finger over Noah’s tiny fist. “Ready to take on the world?”
Noah yawns in response.
My shoulders shake with silent laughter as Gavin returns the littlest Donovan to his father, and then the giggles burst forth.
“You think that’s funny?” Gavin says as he kisses my temple.
“Very much so.”
“He might change his mind when he’s a little older.”
“And in the mean time, we’ve got you to fight the good fight for us.”
I fall asleep when we get home, an accidental nap caused by reading in the sitting room upstairs, where the summer sun streams in at just the right angle.
When I wake up, I feel all kinds of discombobulated and I go in search of Gavin. He’s in his library on the main floor, on the phone with Stew. I grab a sticky note and scrawl Do you want tea? on it.
He shakes his head and blows me a kiss.
The kettle has just boiled when he comes to find me in the kitchen. I’m standing in front of the fridge, trying to decide what I want to eat, so he pours the hot water over the loose leaf tea for me.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
“Hungry?”
“Not sure. I’m something. Can’t decide if the nap made me queasy or hungry. Tea might settle my stomach.”
“Maybe you should take a pregnancy test.”
I whirl around, letting the fridge door thump shut. “What?”
“Your period is weeks late,” he says, his eyes soft and sweet as he glances down my body. “And your breasts have been more sensitive in the last few days. If you’re feeling nauseous…”
“I took a test,” I mutter, hope fluttering in my chest. A week ago, says a little voice in the back of my mind. I don’t want to take another one, not if it’ll be negative. “And going off the pill can make cycles a bit wonky at first.”
He nods, but he’s still looking at me with that curiously warm expression.
“I’ll take a test in a few days if my cycle hasn’t started again.”
“That’s a good plan.”
“You noticed that my period was late?”
“I notice everything about you.”
Hope’s wings are beating fierce and fast now. “I thought maybe my symptoms were all in my head.”
He holds out his hand and I fold into his body. His hand squeezes my waist before sliding up to cup my breast through my t-shirt. I bite my lip at the pressure. “That’s not in your head, Sprite.”
I nod.
“Maybe go and take a test now.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“I’ll make you a sandwich to go with the tea.”
“Okay.”
He strokes his fingers up to my neck and squeezes my nape. “I love you so much.”
I kiss him, pressing my mouth against his, sucking on his lower lip. A demanding kiss isn’t usually my style, but I need something right here, in this moment. I need—
He spins us around, pushing me up against the wall as he takes over the embrace. His tongue slides through my lips, demanding entrance to my mouth. To explore, to taste, to conquer. “Is this okay?” he asks between onslaughts, and I pull him tighter.
If I’m pregnant, it happened when I visited his office at the start of the month. It happened just like this, with him overcome with desire, pressing me against a wall.
I laugh gently as he kisses down my neck.
This is so us.
Well, it’s not like we’ll tell our kids where and when they were conceived anyway.
“You’re laughing,” he growls.
“I’ll tell you why after I go and pee on a stick.” I wiggle away from him and blow a kiss as I leave the kitchen.
Five minutes later, I return, and there’s no hiding the glee on my face.
“Good news?” he asks, standing still in the centre of the room.
“The best,” I whisper as I launch myself at him.
He spins me around. “We’re having a baby?”
“Yep.” I give him a bashful smile. “You knocked me up in your office.”
He tips his head back and shouts out a laugh. “Breaking a shutter again was totally worth it.”