Drew + Fable Forever (One Week Girlfriend #3.5)(27)

“Not if you use language like that around our child,” she sniffs, making me laugh. “I’m serious, Drew. Look at Owen. He never stops with the language. Ever. It’s awful.”

“Neither do you, baby,” I say just before I lean in to kiss her.

“Hey, I’ve really cleaned up my act,” she protests once I break the kiss. “I’ve been especially good these past few weeks. Do you know the baby can hear pretty much everything I say right now?”

“The baby doesn’t even have ears yet,” I remind her.

“Not true. She’s hearing everything. Trust me. So keep it clean.”

“Now the baby’s a she?” I like the idea of a blond little girl with flashing green eyes and a sassy attitude running around. I like that a lot.

“I go back and forth. One day it’s a boy, the next it’s a girl. We do want to find out what the baby’s sex is, right? I don’t think I can stand waiting until I deliver,” she admits.

“I definitely want to find out what we’re having. The idea of it being a surprise … I don’t like that.” I’ve never been a fan of surprises. They make me uneasy.

“That’s how they did it in the olden days,” she points out, oh so helpfully.

“This isn’t the olden days anymore, Fable. Let’s take advantage of modern technology.” I kiss her again because she’s so hard to resist. Just like that I’m swept up in the taste of her lips, the feel of her, the little sounds she makes.

Then I remember what I left on the dresser and I pull away from her with a quick “hold on.” I dash over to the dresser and grab the flowers, thrusting them toward her. She takes them from me, her expression one of shock.

“What are these for?”

“Um, a congratulations that you’re having my baby?” I snag up the gift bag and hand that over to her as well. “And a gift.”

“Drew, you didn’t have to do all this.” She says this but I can tell she likes it. Her cheeks are flushed and her mouth is curved in a pleased smile.

“Yeah, I did. The mother of my baby deserves all the gifts in the world,” I say.

Her cheeks redden even further and she reaches into the bag, pulling out the infant-sized gold-and-red 49er onesie that I picked up at one of the gift shops in the stadium. “Oh my God,” she breathes, her gaze fixed on the piece of baby’s clothing. “It’s so small. And so cute.”

“I knew the gift shop had some baby wear, so I went in there hoping to find something.”

“You bought it? You’re the quarterback—shouldn’t they just give you this stuff?” she asks, never tearing her gaze away from the onesie.

I climb into bed beside her again, propped on my elbow, watching her trace the stitching of the tiny piece of clothing with her index finger. She likes it, I can tell. “I didn’t have time for all that. I went into the gift shop, bought it real quick, and jammed. I don’t care if I have to pay for it or not.”

“I love it.” She meets my gaze, her smile small, the look in her eyes hopeful. “This makes it feel so much more concrete. Our baby’s first gift.”

“Is it?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, Jen knows, and Owen. Of course, now Colin knows. But I’ve received no gifts from anyone. I mean, who the heck do I know?”

“You have friends. The other players’ wives,” I point out, and she waves a hand.

“Meh, I’m happy you were the first one to give Junior a gift.” She smiles and kisses me, still clutching the onesie in her hand.

“Junior who? Junior me or Junior Fable?” I ask, amused at her flipping and flopping.

“I’m not sure yet,” she says. “All I know is I’m glad you’re here for me.”

Her words strike me dead center in the heart. “I’ll always be here for you. You’ll never have to worry about that,” I say sincerely.

“I know. I believe you. I have faith in you.” Her smile is tremulous and her eyes are filled with tears. “We’re going to make it, aren’t we, Drew? And we’re going to be the best parents ever.”

“You better f**king believe it,” I say right before I kiss her, earning a shocked laugh out of her for my words.

“We’re not allowed to say those words anymore. They might damage our child’s psyche,” she says primly, and I scoff.

I f**king scoff. I mean, really? “You gotta be kidding me.”

“I’m not kidding. We need to clean up our acts.”

“Are you going to be one of those moms?”

“What type of mom are you talking about?” she asks.

“The nerdy kind who are always good and doing the right thing, because if that’s the case, I can go ahead and kiss my sex life goodbye. You know, because we can’t have sex for fear of traumatizing the baby since he or she is inside of you at the moment,” I say.

“Oh my God, I never even thought of that,” she whispers, her eyes wide.

“Well, don’t, because later tonight, we’re going to have sex whether little Junior likes it or not and you’re going to love it, I can guarantee you that. So let’s take a nap. I’m exhausted,” I say as I pluck the flowers off the comforter and grab the onesie, getting out of bed to go set them back on the dresser.