The afternoon sun cast golden light through our bedroom windows as I lay curled against Kaelen's chest, both of us thoroughly spent. We'd spent most of the day "attempting to induce labor," as we'd started calling it to make ourselves feel more productive. So far, our efforts had produced nothing but mutual satisfaction and a desperate need for hydration.
"How are you feeling?" Kaelen murmured, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my bare shoulder.
I shifted slightly, taking inventory of my body. "Like jelly. Very satisfied jelly."
His chest rumbled with laughter beneath my cheek. "I meant any signs of labor."
"Oh, that." I placed a hand on my enormous belly. "Nothing yet. Your son is far too comfortable in there."
Kaelen's hand joined mine, his much larger palm covering most of my rounded abdomen. As if on cue, Rhys delivered a powerful kick directly against his father's hand.
"Strong," Kaelen said proudly. "Like his mother."
