“What?” I sit up just enough to lean back on my elbows. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s the only explanation for pity sex.”

“Pity sex?” I try not to laugh, but this is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.

“Yes. Pity sex.” She crawls off the bed and pulls her nightshirt back on over her head like she’s angry at it too. “It’s what you give to someone who you deem desperate after you’ve had your fill.”

“My fill of what?”

“Sex! Are you not listening?”

So. Fucking. Much. That’s how much I love this fiery little woman stomping her feet and fisting her hands.

“You think I’ve been off getting ‘my fill’ of sex since you moved here?” I laugh.

She stabs a finger toward me. “Don’t you dare laugh at me.”

“I’m not laughing. I’m—”

“You’re laughing.” She marches out of the room, slamming the bathroom door behind her.

Okay, I’m laughing a little bit. I knock on the door.

“Go away.”

I turn the handle. It’s not locked.

“Gaga …” I step in and shut the door behind me.

Narrowed eyes look at my reflection in the mirror. “What?”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about Lady Gaga watching us. That’s why I didn’t finish.”

“Bullshit.”

“Turn around.”

She shakes her head.

“Turn. Around.”

On a sigh, she turns, leaning against the vanity. “What are you doing?”

“Taking five more minutes to prove a point.” I squat down in front of her, pulling off her panties.

“Flint—”

I hold a shushing finger to my lips a second before shoving my sweatpants and briefs down my legs. Her gaze drifts to my erection because it’s pretty much a constant when I’m with her.

“I haven’t been with anyone but you since the day you walked into my life.” I lift her up onto the vanity.

“Flint—”

“Shhh …” I kiss her while wedging myself between her legs.

She sucks in a quick breath as I push into her. My hand finds her breast as I find a rhythm.

“Race you to the finish,” I whisper in her ear.

Elle’s lips press to my neck, pulling into a grin. I show her how much I love her. How much I’ve missed her. How much I crave every inch of her. And then I beat her to the finish, pulling her across the line just after me.

With her arms draped over my shoulders, she collapses into my chest. And because this is my life with Ellen Rodgers, the unlocked door behind me opens while I’m still balls deep.

“Grandma!” Ellen shrieks.

“Oh … dear.” She clears her throat.

I glance up at her reflection in the mirror, but she’s staring at my bare ass like fucking Lady Gaga.

“Your grandpa is using one bathroom downstairs and your dad is in the other. I really need to relieve my old bladder.” She continues to focus on my ass.

“Thirty seconds, Grandma. Just shut the door. Okay?” Ellen buries her face in my neck.

“Oh … okay.” She backs out and shuts the door.

“Oh my god …” Ellen whispers.

I chuckle, pulling out and easing her to her feet.

“Turn around.”

I raise a brow as she lifts the toilet lid.

“Just do it,” she says with exasperation.

I pull up my pants and turn my back to her while she pees … and hums. She slips back on her panties and washes her hands. We both stare at the door for a few seconds, readying ourselves for Grandma on the other side.

Ellen takes a deep breath and opens the door. Grandma smiles as we squeeze past her.

“What kind of therapy was that, Dr. Hopkins?”

She’s good.

I grin. “Just good ole sexual healing.”

Grandma purses her lips to keep from grinning and shakes her head at me before shutting the door.

“I feel very close to your grandma.”

Ellen pulls on her robe, still red from nose to toe. “You’re going to give her a heart attack.”

“I’m going to start locking that bathroom door. She just doesn’t look like the stairs are her thing.” I lean against the doorframe. “Yet, she seems to navigate them just fine when she senses we’re naked in the bathroom.”

Ellen rolls her eyes and fists my shirt while she gently taps her forehead against my chest. “It’s something with my dad’s family. A sixth sense. I didn’t tell my dad about my situation, but I have this feeling he knows.”

“You should tell him. Do you want me to tell him?”

She glances up. “No. Do you want me to tell Harry?”

“Yes.”

“Sure.” A laugh escapes at the end of her single word.

I don’t smile. I don’t blink.

“You’re joking.”

I shake my head.

“You want me to tell Harry that you got me…” she lowers her voice “…pregnant?”

“No. I want you to word it more like this, ‘Harry, I got a little carried away and now I’m pregnant and your dad is my baby’s daddy too. Please don’t blame him.’”

She opens her mouth to speak, just as my new ass admirer comes out of the bathroom.

“What can I get you two mischievous kids for breakfast?”

“Don’t worry about it, Grandma. I’ll be down in just a minute to make something.”

“Okey dokey.”

Ellen loses the smile as she returns her attention to me. “You want me to throw myself under the bus to save you?”

“You walk on water in his eyes. I’m not sure he’s truly capable of getting upset with you, especially if you make cookies.”

Her lips purse to the side. I’m not sure if I should cover my junk or run.

She shrugs. “Fine.”

“Fine?”

“I’ll tell him.”

“You will?”

“Yes. But not for a couple more months. If I miscarry, it’s all for nothing.”

I swore after Heidi died I’d never let another woman tear my heart out. Yet, here I am, letting this woman do exactly that.

“Let’s go eat.” I turn before she can see how much her words slay me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Ellen

I watch him pack his bag. Why does he have to leave? I know the answer, but my heart still asks the question.

“I hope Harry loved New York City.”

“My dad texted me a picture of him in Times Square.” He holds up his phone for me to see.

“That’s a big smile.”

“Yeah.” Flint stares at the photo for a few more seconds.

“You miss him.”

“I do. Some days I can’t wait to distance myself from him, but after a while, I miss his constant nagging and incessant talking about random stuff.”

And that’s why he has to leave. I may feel this need for him to stay, but only one of his children really needs him at the moment, and it’s not the one in my womb.

“So it’s weird that we never really discussed a plan. Do we have one?”

He zips his bag and slips on his winter coat. “I’m taking your lead on this, which seems to be a wait-and-see. So I guess we’ll wait a few months to see if you’re still pregnant.”

I flinch. “That’s a little abrasive.”

“No more so than your comments.”

“What comments?”

“The reminders that you could miscarry. The ‘all for nothing’ comment. I get the impression that we are one hundred percent contingent on this child coming into the world.”

“Well …” I say slowly. “Are we not? I left. You never contacted me until Harry and I were video chatting on Christmas—over a month after I left Minneapolis. Then you called me because you felt guilty about something you said to your dad. And you only showed up here because you thought I didn’t want this baby. What’s changed?”

“Everything!” He bites his lips together, hands on his hips as he looks up at the ceiling. “Don’t you get it? I’m not going to move Heaven and Earth to make this work and then scrap it all if you miscarry our child. For me, this is no longer about the baby.”

Everything inside of me tingles with emotion.

I want this life.

“You’re going to move Heaven and Earth for me?”

He blows a cynical laugh out of his nose. “Is that so hard to believe?”

Yes. Men love me when it’s convenient. When life is good. When they have two good hands. There’s nothing convenient about us. When Harry finds out, life might not feel so good. And Flint didn’t lose his hands, he lost something—someone—so much greater.

Yet he’s here for me.

“Do it,” I whisper. “Move Heaven and Earth.”

A painful smile pulls at his mouth. I hug him, fighting the emotions that come with goodbyes, fighting the emotions that come with loving someone so completely.

“Heaven and Earth,” he says, kissing the top of my head.

*

Flint thanks my family, giving an extra-long hug to my grandma. I’m not sure, but I think she gives his ass a soft pat, however, I catch it just as he releases her, so I can’t say for sure.