“Why’d you call MommyRaven?” she asked, her eyes wide as she studied me.
I gazed at my wife as she glanced at me over her shoulder, a smile playing on her lips. The swell of her belly was now becoming obvious, and my heart skipped a beat.
“I don’t know, kid. I just do. Go get your shoes. Caleb, you want ice cream?”
She slid down my leg as she ran to get her shoes, pushing past her brother who glared at her.
“Nope.”
“Where’s your manners young man? “I leaned down, my hands on my knees as I gazed into a pint-sized version of myself. He thrust his chin up to me and smirked.
“Someone needs to stay and look after Mom.”
I kissed his forehead to his disgust as I smiled at him,
“Yeah? You got everything you need there?”
I nodded behind him to where he had the Avengers lined up ready for battle. He nodded seriously as he patted my back.
“I’ve got this, dad. You go get ice cream.”
Laughter burst from Gretchen’s mouth as she gazed at us lovingly.
“He’s a mini you.”
“Daddddddddyyyyyyyy!” yelled an impatient Summer from the doorway.
“She’s—” I began as Gretchen held her hand up.
“Nothing like me. She’s a diva. Go get our diva some ice cream.”
I strode over to her, taking her into my arms as my hands slid around her stomach.
“How’s my littlest bean?”
I kissed her throat as Caleb made sick sounds from the living room. I smirked at him, proud that he got to see his parents in love. I hoped one day he would appreciate it.
“Fine. Busy kicking a soccer ball around today.”
She placed my hand on her stomach and I waited patiently, before I felt a tiny foot against the palm of my hand.
“He has quite the kick.”
“She does.”
I rolled my eyes as I kissed her again, allowing her to win the eternal argument about who was right about the sex of the baby.
“Daddy!”
I chuckled softly as I reluctantly pulled away from my kryptonite, pointing a finger at Caleb.
“Look after your Mama.”
He grabbed Captain America and forced the toy arm into a salute.
“Coming baby girl,” I called as I grabbed my truck keys and of course, my wallet. A man didn’t get to have kids and a wife and not need his damn wallet twenty-four hours a day. Summer stood at the doorway, hands on her hips as she glared at me.
“You’re late.”
