Page 125 of One Baby Daddy
“What’s wrong with Reign? You’re just disagreeing because I didn’t like Melvin.”
“Melvin was a joke.” I knew it, the bastard. “And I can’t possibly have a son with the name Reign. Should his middle name be sunflower?”
I roll my eyes. “Reign, spelled r-e-i-g-n.”
He pauses. “Oh . . . still no.”
Even though I’m a little upset, I didn’t think he’d go for that name, which is why I threw it out there first. I couldn’t possibly have him hate my number-one pick.
“Fine, give me a real boy’s name that you like.”
“Hayden Junior.” He chuckles on the phone.
“You’re impossible. I’m hanging up now.”
“Wait.” The mirth in his voice continues. “I don’t have a boy’s name really, but I have a girl’s name.”
“If you say Adalyn Junior, I’m going to hang up.”
“No, this is real. I promise.”
I switch the phone in my hand. “Okay, go for it.”
“If we have a girl, I really like the name Madeline.”
The name rolls of his tongue with such love that it makes me actually have to pause, my mind envisioning Hayden with a little girl, running toward him, her eyes big and brown like his, her little knees all pudgy, calling out Daddy while he says her name.Madeline.
It’s beautiful. The whole picture in my head, it’s beautiful.
My eyes begin to sting. For fuck’s sake, it’s just a name, but for some reason the name hits me hard, harder than I thought because it truly isn’t just a name.
It’s an image.
It’s a conceivable future.
“You hate it, don’t you?”
Holding back my tears, my throat growing tight, I shake my head even though he can’t see me.
“It’s . . . beautiful, Hayden.”
“Really?” Joy exudes him.
“Yes, really beautiful. I could see it.”
“So does that mean it’s on the table?”
“It does.”
There is a knock on my door when I hear Hayden say, “Fuck, yes!”
“Uh, hold on one second.”
Pulling the phone away from my ear, I put it on mute and call out to Logan. “Yes?”
He pops his head through a crack in the door and takes me in, his eyes slowly giving me a once-over, heat filling them when his eyes land on my bra-less breasts, my nipples hard, poking past the flimsy T-shirt.
“Am I interrupting you?” he finally asks when his eyes reach mine.
