“Yeah.” She caressed her belly. “Maybe later we can talk about more.”
“Yeah?”
“Maybe. No promises.”
“Do you have any idea how perfect this moment is right now?” he whispered.
She smiled. “I think I have a clue.”
He kissed her, ready to go to sleep. “If I’m dreaming, don’t wake me up.”
It was a thought she’d had many times over the past months. “Don’t wake me up either.”
She smiled. “I think she got the memo.”
Kelly was drifting to sleep when the baby kicked again. She reached for Mart’s hand and placed it on her stomach. He nuzzled her neck. “God, I love you,” he whispered.
She fell asleep with Mart’s hand cupped under hers, resting on her belly, his breath warm and steady on her neck.
And knew she’d finally put David’s voice out of her head for good.
THE END
WWW.LESLIRICHARDSON.COM
Lesli (no “e” on the end) Richardson is a stubborn, snarky, caffeine-addicted Taurus and native Floridian who lives in southwest Florida with her husband, son, and a houseful of neurotic, misfit animals of various species. As of this writing, she has never seen “real” snow.
She has dozens of software tutorials to her credit, and has in the past been a freelance writer and newspaper columnist, among other things. (She’s also been rumored to write bestselling novels under the pen name, Tymber Dalton.) Her life-long dream of writing fiction for a living (and getting paid to do it) has finally come true, so she’s forbidden anyone to pinch her and wake her up. Feel free to read more about her assorted scribblings at her website, or drop her a line.
Please visit Lesli at
www.leslirichardson.com
myspace.com/madmumbler
leslirichardson.blogspot.com
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