Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Andrew W. Marlowe, though they have found their own way into my heart.
Her arm is feeling a bit numb. A tingling current runs down from her shoulder to her fingertips. Their hands are laced, their fingers intertwined, resting between them on the backseat's bench. She gives a small tug and places them onto her lap. The navy fabric of her dress glistens with thousands of twinkling paillettes, their skin looking pale compared to the dark blue tint of her evening gown.
They are three blocks away, traffic is densifying. The light jumps to green and the driver makes a right. Unconsciously, she draws in a deep breath.
"You okay?" his voice rumbles softly, but she can still hear the hint of worry in his tone. Anxiety makes his fingers squeeze hers a little tighter, her golden band pressed between his pointer and middle finger.
He's been nervous all day, insisting all afternoon if she doesn't feel like it, she doesn't have to go. It's Nikki Heat's sixth book launch party.
She tilts her head and leans it against his shoulder. "Yes."
It's quiet for a couple a seconds and then a small giggle escapes her lips.
"What?" he murmurs.
She lightly shakes her head. "Nothing," she whispers with a smile. And then she chuckles again.
"What?" he inquires more insistent, turning to her.
She doesn't answer. Instead, she takes his left hand and presses his palm to her stomach. They wait for a short moment and they both feel it.
He's the one laughing this time, putting his other hand onto her little round bump.
"A kick!" He's beaming. "Kate, she kicked!"
"Or he."
But he shakes 'no', his smile threatening to split his face in two.
Castle wants a little Kate; she wants a blue eyed boy.
But she's sure, in four months, they won't care what they get. 'Cause they'll be holding their own baby in their arms.
;)