Addicted After All (Addicted #3)(9)

“No,” I whisper. “Not that I’m looking forward to it. It’s going to be weird.” I’ll like knowing my baby is alive and active, but just the idea of something alive and moving inside of me has a certain creep factor. Remembering that the baby is a part of Lo lessens some of that.

“You’d tell me though, right?” he asks, his eyes flitting to mine. “I want to know when it happens for the first time.”

It’s my turn to try and contain my smile. Lo has been supportive since he found out that I was pregnant. The fact that he never wanted children—that this baby was an unwelcome surprise rather than a joyous one—has been shelved somewhere else. Somewhere too far to ever reach again.

“I tell you everything,” I remind him. “Like how I dumped my goldfish crackers in a bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream. Which was so good but so gross.” It’s my favorite snack.

“It was disgusting,” Lo confirms. He props his elbow on the bed, his fingers lightly brushing my hipbone.

I close my eyes, practically melting, and his hand drifts back up to my collar. So mean. When I open them again, I catch sight of the white envelope on the nightstand. “Maybe we shouldn’t wait.”

Lo follows my gaze and shakes his head. “Rose will kill you.”

He’s right. A few weeks ago, she was obsessively eating oranges while I dunked my gold fish in an ocean of ice cream. As she ripped the peel off, she said that she wanted to be present when I learned the sex of my baby.

She was intimidatingly scary, but I would’ve said yes, even if she was all smiles. So after my ultrasound, we told the doctor to seal the news in an envelope. There it rests. I think I can wait until the morning.

“What do you want?” I ask him a question that we’ve both dodged for some time. “A boy or a girl?” Deep down, I know my answer, even if I wish I could be neutral and long for a boy and a girl equally.

“It shouldn’t matter,” he evades, his amber eyes searching mine, looking for my response to the same question. It’s okay. I can admit it first.

I open my mouth to say the words, and they lodge in my throat, barred from exit by internal fears.

“Lily?” he murmurs, leaning over my small frame and combing the hair from my face. He’s halfway on my body, semi-cloaked in Loren Hale.

I tangle my legs with his. Better.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he tells me.

I think I need to though. I’d rather let these things out. “If we have a girl…” I breathe softly. “…there’s a good chance she’ll be ridiculed.” Her mom will be a sex addict. It’ll be like Daisy, pegged as one just for being my sister. I can imagine my daughter having a bumpier, rockier road. And Daisy’s is already horrible enough.

Lo finds my hands and intertwines our fingers together. My leg brushes his thigh, nearing his crotch, and my pulse speeds up a fraction. His hand lowers back to my hipbone, holding me still. And I relax in this position, the heat of his body warming me. It’s effortless. Our normal.

“Maybe in the future people won’t judge girls differently than guys,” he says.

“What do you mean?” I’m staring at his lips again, but I focus on his words.

He tucks a flyaway piece of hair behind my ear. “When girls sleep around—maybe they won’t be called sluts and whores. Maybe they’ll be treated like guys. Then no one will care about your addiction, not enough to harass Luna.”

Luna. My heart palpitates at the name we chose if we have a girl.

The world he described seems imaginary. One made from fiction. Not a future.

“Doubtful,” I whisper.

He stares down into me and says, “I’ll keep her safe.”

My eyes well with tears while my lips pull high. “Against the world, Loren Hale?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Against the world, Lily Calloway. I’m familiar with that battle.”

I kiss him, lifting my head off the pillow to meet those pink lips.

He deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding sensually against mine before drawing away. “So you want a boy then?” he asks, figuring me out. I think I could raise a boy better than a girl. I think he’d like me as a mom. At least, I hope so.

“Yeah,” I say in a whisper, searching Lo’s eyes now for his answer. “Do you want a boy?”

“If you want one, then yeah,” he nods.

I punch him lightly in the arm. “That’s not an answer,” I refute. “Stop placating me.”

His amber eyes narrow and he blinks a couple times like I’m no longer Lily but some alien girl. “Since when do you use the word placate?”

“Since Connor gave me that thesaurus for Christmas.” Rose said it was a rude present, but he took the time to scribble notes in the margins. Like the word bastard, he wrote: the best looking one is in your arms. A literal truth. I run my hands along Lo’s shoulder muscles. “He highlighted all the cool words for me.”

Lo lets out a short laugh. “Connor’s definition of cool isn’t the same one you and I follow.”

“Oh.” That’s probably true too.

He grins, and then he takes my face in his hands and kisses me before I realize what’s happened. A surprise kiss. One that oozes my bones and rouses my soul. His lips suck gently on my bottom one, and his hand tangles in my brown hair. I moan into the next kiss, especially as his thumb rubs the soft spot on my neck.