As the months passed by, I became more and more excited about moving in with Braydon. We lived too far apart and since we wanted to be together every day, the distance became more and more of an annoyance. It was time. And there was no denying my place was a bit of a dump anyhow. He wouldn’t let me carry a single box, even though I was still active and working out regularly.
I remained upstairs in his apartment, intercepting each box and suitcase he delivered and began the process of melding my life with his. My dresser, which sat across from his, was filled with socks, underwear, and maternity clothes; the space in his closet that he’d cleared held my work clothes; and the bathroom . . . well there was no denying that my toiletries, makeup, and hair items completely overtook his bathroom. Braydon didn’t seem to mind at all. He moved his shaving cream and deodorant onto the windowsill and let me have my way with his bathroom cabinets.
He even made room on his living room shelf for all my favorite books—including the ones with buff shirtless guys on them. Now that was love.
“Last box, babe.” Braydon hoisted the cardboard box over his head as he crossed the threshold and toed the door closed behind him. After depositing the box labeled “Kitchen Stuff” on the counter, he joined me on the couch.
As it so often did these days, Braydon’s hand came to a rest on my belly. “Still no kicking?”
I shook my head. “I’m not quite four months yet, so the doctor said that’s normal.” I knew Braydon was excited to feel the baby move, but I’d read that typically happened between four and five months. “Soon enough.” I patted his hand. I was still nervous about the whole giving-birth thing, but I’d come to accept my new outlook on life. I was even excited to see Braydon as a dad. Since the day we met for coffee, and found out I was pregnant, he’d been there for me every step of the way. He’d been my rock, attended every doctor’s appointment, stocked up his apartment with prenatal vitamins, stuffed animals, and baby-proofing materials even though I told him we had a while before we needed those.
“You know what today is, right?” Braydon smiled like he knew a secret I didn’t.
“Um, no. What?”
“For starters, it’s the six-month anniversary of Emmy and Ben’s wedding.”
“Oh. That’s cool.”
“Which means it’s our six-month anniversary, too.”
I chuckled. “Maybe the anniversary of you going down on me.”
“Exactly, and from that very first taste you were mine.” I couldn’t deny what he said wasn’t true. I was his, right from the very beginning. He lifted me from the couch and set me on his lap. “I’m so glad you said yes and that you’re here, kitten.”
I laid my head on his shoulder and inhaled the unique scent that was just Bray. “Me too.” I shifted so I could meet his eyes. “You know . . . the nickname kitten is awfully close to Kat—your ex’s name.” I frowned.
His eyebrows shot up. “I never realized, but you’re right. So no more kitten, then?”
I shook my head. “Nope.”
“Hmm.” He touched his forehead to mine. “How about Mrs. Kincaid then? Would that suit you?”
I blinked at him, utterly speechless.
