It's three in the morning, and we've just finished another middle-of-the-night feeding session. It’s good to see some things never change.
Summit’s back asleep in his bassinet beside our bed, and I've convinced Wren to join me in the kitchen for her first official post-baby beer—my special Dawn Breaker IPA, brewed specifically for our son's birth.
Wren raises her own bottle, clinking it against mine. "To our tiny terror. May he someday sleep through the night."
We both drink, and I watch her face as she tastes the beer for the first time in months. Her eyes widen, then close in as she moans in appreciation.
I ignore the way my dick perks up at the sound.
"Holy shit, Kasen," she says when she opens them again. "This is... incredible."
Pride surges through me. She always was my worst critic. "Yeah? Not too hoppy?"
"It's perfect. Balanced, complex, with just the right finish." She takes another sip. "Best thing you've ever brewed."
Coming from her, that's high praise. Wren doesn't hand out compliments easily, especially not about beer.
"Well, I had good inspiration." I lean against the counter, watching her in the soft glow of the under-cabinet lights. Even exhausted, hair piled in a messy bun, wearing one of my old t-shirts and sleep shorts, she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. "You gonna pump and dump after this?"
She makes a face. "Unfortunately. Seems like such a waste of good breast milk."
"I could help with that." The words are out before I can stop them.
She nearly chokes on her beer. "Excuse me?"
Heat creeps up my neck, but I don't back down. Nah, I own that shit. "Instead of pumping and dumping. I could help you out."
Her eyes go dark, and I know she understands exactly what I'm suggesting. "Are you offering what I think you're offering, James?"
“Yeah. I am.”
"You know that's not how it works, right?" She's fighting a smile, cheeks flushed. "Pumping and dumping is just to relieve pressure until the alcohol leaves my system naturally. It's not like you'd be removing the alcohol."
"Fine, ruin my fantasy with your logic." I move closer, trapping her against the counter. And yep, my dick’s fully hard between us. "But you can't tell me it wouldn't be more fun than that pump."
"Not even in the top ten worst ideas you've had." Her hand lands on my chest, but she doesn't push me away. "But you'll have to wait a few more weeks. Doctor's orders."
"I can be patient." I dip my head, my lips brushing against her ear. "Doesn't mean I can't think about it, though."
She sucks in a breath, fingers curling into my shirt. "You're dangerous when you talk like that."
"Only for you, Pink." I grin against her skin. "And maybe your resolve."
She leans into me, head against my shoulder. "I've clearly lost my mind since having your kid."
We stand like that for a while, just holding each other in the quiet kitchen, drinking our beer in companionable silence.
"Did you ever think we'd end up here?" she asks eventually, her voice soft.
"Honestly? No. I spent most of the last couple of years trying to figure out how to beat you, not how to marry you and have a kid."
She chuckles. "From enemies to co-parents in under a year. We're either insane or stupid."
"Maybe both." I take another pull of my beer. "Still wouldn't change a thing."
"No?" She pulls back, eyebrow raised. "Not even when I told that bar your flagship tasted like 'someone dumped Pine-Sol in last week’s malt water'?"
"Not even that." I brush my thumb across her cheek. "Nobody else would've said it to my face. You made me completely rework the recipe."
