One Baby Daddy (Dating by Numbers #3)(93)

“Maybe.”

Chuckling, I can hear him shift, probably getting more comfortable wherever he is. “Hit me with them.”

“I want to hear yours first, just in case mine are stupid, I can adjust based on what you say.”

“What?” He laughs. “No way, that’s not fair. I asked you first.”

“And I’m the one who has to push a watermelon out of a quarter-sized hole, so guess who’s going to win this battle?”

“God, I like you pregnant. So damn feisty. It’s sexy as hell.”

“I was feisty before.” Truth, being one of nine meant I had no choice but to learn how to stick up for myself.

“True, but it’s like you have an extra pinch of cayenne in you.”

“Stop avoiding the question. Tell me your names.”

“Fine, but no laughing, okay?”

“I can’t make any promises.” Turning to my side, I get comfortable, interested to hear his choices.

“Brutal, baby, totally brutal.” Clearing his throat, he continues, “Okay, if it’s a boy, I was thinking something like Melvin.”

I take pause, letting the silence stretch on the phone. “No, you were not.”

“Yes, I was. Melvin Holmes. It has a good ring to it, and it’s my great, great grandfather’s name. He was a good man.”

“A man you never met.”

“Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t name my firstborn after him.”

“Not happening. Sorry. Granddaddy Melvin is not happening.”

“Okay, give me one of your boy names then.” His voice is challenging, yet playful.

Thinking back to my list, I don’t go with my number one, instead I toss up number two, wanting to gauge his reaction. “How about Reign.”

He takes no time in answering. “Are you kidding?”

“What’s wrong with Reign? You’re just disagreeing because I didn’t like Melvin.”

“Melvin was a joke.” I knew it, the bastard. “And I can’t possibly have a son with the name Reign. Should his middle name be sunflower?”

I roll my eyes. “Reign, spelled r-e-i-g-n.”

He pauses. “Oh . . . still no.”

Even though I’m a little upset, I didn’t think he’d go for that name, which is why I threw it out there first. I couldn’t possibly have him hate my number-one pick.

“Fine, give me a real boy’s name that you like.”

“Hayden Junior.” He chuckles on the phone.

“You’re impossible. I’m hanging up now.”

“Wait.” The mirth in his voice continues. “I don’t have a boy’s name really, but I have a girl’s name.”

“If you say Adalyn Junior, I’m going to hang up.”

“No, this is real. I promise.”

I switch the phone in my hand. “Okay, go for it.”

“If we have a girl, I really like the name Madeline.”

The name rolls of his tongue with such love that it makes me actually have to pause, my mind envisioning Hayden with a little girl, running toward him, her eyes big and brown like his, her little knees all pudgy, calling out Daddy while he says her name. Madeline.

It’s beautiful. The whole picture in my head, it’s beautiful.

My eyes begin to sting. For fuck’s sake, it’s just a name, but for some reason the name hits me hard, harder than I thought because it truly isn’t just a name.

It’s an image.

It’s a conceivable future.

“You hate it, don’t you?”

Holding back my tears, my throat growing tight, I shake my head even though he can’t see me.

“It’s . . . beautiful, Hayden.”

“Really?” Joy exudes him.

“Yes, really beautiful. I could see it.”

“So does that mean it’s on the table?”

“It does.”

There is a knock on my door when I hear Hayden say, “Fuck, yes!”

“Uh, hold on one second.”

Pulling the phone away from my ear, I put it on mute and call out to Logan. “Yes?”

He pops his head through a crack in the door and takes me in, his eyes slowly giving me a once-over, heat filling them when his eyes land on my bra-less breasts, my nipples hard, poking past the flimsy T-shirt.

“Am I interrupting you?” he finally asks when his eyes reach mine.

“Just on the phone. What’s up?”

“Tomorrow night. I’m working a late shift tomorrow so I’m starting at eight. Want to go out and grab dinner together beforehand?”

Logan’s job alternates between early, mid, and late shifts. He leaves the apartment at six thirty on his early shifts, which means we don’t always cross paths until the night on those days. Because I’ve been so tired, we’ve mostly eaten at home each day, but going out sounds like fun for a change.

“Yeah, that sounds fine,” I answer casually.

He winks at me. “Perfect, it’s a date. I’ll make reservations for six. Wear something sexy.” Tapping the molding, he shuts the door, leaving me slightly confused. Wear something sexy? That was a joke, right? Because sexy right now for me is a pair of leggings and fuzzy socks.