"What about?—"
"Kasen." She cuts me off, her hands sliding up my chest. "Let's eat dinner first, then we can argue about names. I'm starving."
"When aren't you starving?"
"Shut up and feed me." But she's grinning as she grabs plates from the cabinet.
We settle at the table with our Thai food, the conversation flowing easier than it ever has. She tells me about her day, about how Kieran accidentally ordered 'premium matte finish' business cards that cost three times the budget but look incredible. "Worth every penny," she laughs, "but he was panicking about how bad my wrath was going to be."
I watch her talk, animated and passionate, gesturing with her fork. There's pad Thai sauce at the corner of her mouth, and her hair is literally falling out of its bun. She's beautiful and ridiculous and mine.
The ring in my pocket feels like it's burning through my jeans.
"What?" she asks, catching me staring.
"Nothing." I clear my throat and change the subject. "What about Theodore? We could call him Teddy."
She makes a face. "He sounds like a professor who corrects people's grammar at dinner parties."
"Oliver?"
"Too trendy."
"Sebastian?"
"Too pretentious."
"For fuck's sake, Pink. You hate everything I suggest."
"Because your suggestions are terrible." She steals one of my spring rolls. "What about something outdoorsy? To go with the nursery theme?"
"Like Forrest? River?"
"No." She pauses, chewing thoughtfully. "Although..."
"Although what?"
"What about Summit? Like a mountain peak. It’s strong." She spins her fork. "And it's not as pretentious as naming him Mount Rainier or something."
I consider it. "Summit James." I test it out loud. "I think I like it."
"Holy shit, we actually agreed on something." She looks genuinely shocked. "Quick, get your phone out. Document this moment."
"Don't get cocky. We still haven't talked middle names."
"One miracle at a time." She pushes her empty plate away. "I'm exhausted."
"Want an early night?"
"Mmm." She stands, stretching, one hand automatically going to the small of her back. "Come to bed with me?"
It's not really a question, and I'm already following her down the hall.
In the bedroom, she strips out of my flannel and her leggings, climbing into bed in just her underwear and my t-shirt. I follow, turning off the lights before joining her.
She curls into me, the way she's been doing for weeks now. Like it's the most natural thing in the world. Like her body can’t help but gravitate toward mine.
"Your turn to pick a middle name," she murmurs against my chest.
