Philippa looks at me, as if to confirm this. I give her a serious nod. "On my honor."
She doesn't understand that, but she reads my nod well enough, and scampers off to the kitchen. Through the open doorway I hear the sound of Bonnie's voice and Philippa's questions. It wouldn't surprise me if she's angling for a Pop-Tart or ice cream again.
I close the distance to my wife and wrap an arm around her waist. "How are you feeling?"
"Swollen. Like a toad. I feel ready to burst at any moment."
"With over a month left." I rub my hand over the small of her back and she sighs in pleasure. Her lips part and I kiss her rosy cheek. "How's our son doing?"
"Your son is alternating between kicking me in the ribs or the bladder. Or both. I swear, sometimes he's doing the splits in there."
"He'll be athletic, then."
She leans her head against my shoulder and I breathe in her hair, the familiar shampoo, the smell of her. "Athletic," she murmurs. "When did you become such an optimist?"
When my wife is carrying twenty-five extra pounds of baby, I think, but I keep that thought to myself. Seeing Cecilia pregnant and giving birth had been one of the most humbling experiences of my life. It put everything into perspective. I wasn't close to the strongest person in this relationship, and seeing her bring Philippa into the world had confirmed it.
"I'm just very grateful for you, and all that you've given me," I say.
She snorts into my shirt. "Charmer."
"Always." I bend closer to her ear. "You know as well as I do what we can do to make this baby come faster."
She shivers in my arms. I look down and yes, her nipples are at the ready. Her breasts are getting heavy again. I do my best to tend to them when they're aching.
"Victor," she says. "I'm humongous. How do you still find me attractive?"
"You're you, and you're carrying our child." I run a hand over her stomach, excitement coursing through me. Not long until we meet him. "I'm proud and turned on in equal measure, and I love you. You could be the size of a whale and I'd still wake up hard and needing you."
"Size of a whale," she grumbles.
I laugh and tilt her head back up to mine. Kissing her is slow and languorous and absolutely amazing. Philippa has made this a little rarer and a lot trickier, but all the more precious.
She's breathing hard when I lift my head, her eyes glossy. I trace her bottom lip with my thumb. "You looked just like this when I kissed you, after we said our vows."
She smiles. "You kissed me a lot longer than was appropriate. We had an audience."
"Well, we were already husband and wife. I figured we'd make sure everyone knew it was real."
She chuckles and I turn us around, toward one of the framed pictures on the wall. We're standing in front of the lake where we got married, right where Cecilia had always dreamed it would take place. She looks stunning and I look dazed.
The photo hangs next to the picture from my grandfather's study, my parents and brother along for the ride. Philippa knows the name of every single one of them, including my brother she's named after.
It's not the only picture of them around the house anymore.
"Oh, those were the times, when I fit into my dresses," Cecilia says. "Look how handsome you are. You were born to wear tuxes."
I shake my head. "No, I was not. I hate bowties around my neck."
"That's a shame, because they sure don't hate you."
I kiss her again. Even after years of marriage, Cecilia's unabashed appreciation for me turns me on. She once joked that I was so starved for it when she met me that all she's doing is filling the void. Maybe that's so. All I know is that I still get turned on, like she's flipped a switch, when she says she loves me.
She exploits that to great effect… and I've no complaints.
Cecilia wraps her arms around my neck but can't pull herself close, with the bump in the way. She looks down in frustration. "I want to hug your daddy," she says. "Would you please let us?"
Her belly stays firmly in the way. I chuckle, kissing her again. My arms are tight around her shoulders. "He can stay. I'm holding two of my favorite people in the world right now."
"With the third seconds away from bursting in here demanding that you play with her. Are you sure you have the time?"
"Absolutely, Mrs. St. Clair. There's nothing else I'd rather do."
Her smile softens, illuminates the face I love so much. The face I couldn't live without. The face I'd once looked at every single day for a year and never truly seen.
I don't miss the man I was back then. Cecilia sometimes talks jokingly about it, about the team we made when she was my assistant, but I can't look back at it with fondness. All I see is someone who was so blind he couldn't recognize the miracle in front of him, let alone treat her right.
"I love you, Mr. St. Clair," she says. "You're the best husband a woman could ever want."
I groan against her shoulder and she laughs, knowing how excited I get. Every time.
But the joyous peal of laughter from the kitchen drowns out my body's needs. "Daddy!" Philippa calls. "I'm coming!"