Bentley lay propped against a mountain of silk pillows, his chest bare, his arm acting as a permanent pillow for Madison. She was curled into his side, her head resting just above his heart, her fingers idly tracing the faint, jagged scar on his forearm—a mark he’d earned years ago, long before he had her to protect.
The sonogram sat on the nightstand, catching the moonlight, a silent witness to the quiet revolution happening in their lives.
"You’re thinking again," Madison whispered, her voice husky. she felt the slight tension in his muscles, the way his mind was already three steps ahead of the present moment.
Bentley exhaled a long, heavy breath, his fingers tangling in her hair. "I’ve been making calls, Madison. For the last few weeks. "
Madison shifted, propping herself up on one
