“What do you think about this one?” I asked, pulling Ella’s attention from the rack of onesies she was perusing.

“Oh, so you care what I want now?” she retorted, shooting me a sulky glare. She’d been pouting since our parenting class. Despite the instructor’s quick thinking preventing a very public argument, I knew Ella hadn’t gotten over my high-handed order regarding a hospital birth. We’d decided to spend the afternoon shopping for baby gear; otherwise, I’m sure she wouldn’t have agreed to my company. The stubborn creature had ignored me since our disagreement, only allowing me to touch her when required for class and barely speaking.

Now, while I considered cribs and strollers, Ella positioned herself as far away as possible without leaving my sight—a line she seemed to understand she shouldn’t cross, no matter how unhappy she was. Sighing, I crossed the small shop, looming over her. “Ella, of course I care what you want. I didn’t mean to dismiss your feelings earlier, but there are some risks I’m simply not willing to take.”

“I just wanted to consider my options,” Ella grumbled, crossing her arms and unintentionally pushing her breasts together. “I don’t even know that I would want a home birth; I just thought it was something to consider.”

Dragging my gaze from her, I answered, “I understand that, and if our situation were different, I wouldn’t have a problem with a home birth, but our situation isn’t different.” I reached for her, but she stepped back. “If you want a water birth or a doula, we can arrange those at the hospital, but we need to be practical.”

Ella glared, her lower lip quivering. I had a bad feeling she was about to cry, and suddenly I wished she’d growl at me again. I couldn’t recall ever hearing such a cute noise except from puppies. I wouldn’t let her get away with it, but it had been difficult not to smile. “I don’t want the baby to be high-risk,” she finally said, her voice husky. “It isn’t fair.”

“I agree,” I said seriously, hating the idea of either of them being threatened. “But it’s the reality, and we have to ensure you have the safest birth possible. In fact, if your blood pressure doesn’t come down by the end of the week, we need to see the doctor again.”

Ella nodded, fighting back a hiccup. Her golden eyes shone, and I was quickly losing patience with the distance between us. “Okay.”

“Okay,” I repeated, ducking my head to catch her eye. “So are we friends again? Can we kiss and make up?”

Ella willingly came into my arms, her small, warm body tense. She snuggled into my embrace and breathed in my scent, though she didn’t completely give up her sulking. “You better not be this bossy in the delivery room.”

I chuckled, stroking her hair. “Oh, you’re going to let me be in the delivery room?” I asked, surprised she wanted this, even though I’d always planned on being there.

To my surprise, Ella pulled back sharply. “You are going to be there, aren’t you?”

She looked so frightened by the prospect of delivering alone that my protective instincts surged. “Of course, sweet Ella. I’m not going to let you do it alone—even if you hate me and try to kick me out, I won’t leave.”

Her racing heart slowed, but she eyed me suspiciously. “That sounds bossy.”

“I said I would be there, not that I wouldn’t be bossy,” I teased, pulling her close.

“Tyrant,” she accused, nuzzling into my chest.

“Troublemaker,” I replied, relieved we were no longer at odds. I much preferred playful disagreements to serious ones. “We haven’t talked about baby names either,” I said. “We should probably do that before class. I don’t think our teacher appreciated us stealing her thunder.”

“We can talk about names,” Ella agreed, content to stay in my arms, even though other customers were glancing our way—smiling to themselves. Oblivious, Ella yawned hugely.

“Mhmm, do you want to keep shopping?” I asked, trying to hide my amusement. “Or go home and nap?”

“We can keep shopping,” she answered, making no effort to move.

“You do know you’ll have to let me go to do that, right?” I asked, wanting nothing of the sort.

Ella blinked, as if realizing she was half asleep, leaning against me. She stepped back, smoothing her dress as she considered the cribs. “Well, what are your thoughts about names?”

I flashed my most wolfish grin. “How about Thor or Rex?”

Ella gaped, not realizing I was teasing. “You might as well call him Butch or Spike!” she exclaimed haughtily. “He might be a wolf, but that doesn’t mean you have to give him a dog’s name, Dominic.”

“Well, he’ll be Alpha one day, so it should be something strong,” I replied, still smiling.

She snorted. “Names don’t make someone strong—that’s about character and integrity.”

“Oh really?” I challenged. “So you think calling our son Daffodil will set him up for success?”

She somehow managed to look down her nose at me. “I think if we call our son Daffodil, he’ll redefine the word for generations to come.”

“Maybe, but he’ll also be bullied,” I reasoned, pretending to read a stroller information sheet.

“Which is why we can’t name him Rex,” Ella replied firmly. “I just don’t think you should let something as arbitrary as a name decide someone’s character.”

“Well, that’s where we disagree; I believe there’s great power in names,” I explained, now meaning my words.

She frowned pensively. “How about Henry, for your father?”

My teasing evaporated. “That’s a very sweet idea,” I conceded, pinning her with my gaze. “But do you like the name Henry?”

“It’s not my favorite,” she shrugged. “But I don’t dislike it.”

“And I suppose someone who loves children as much as you do—who’s been trying for so long… there’s no chance you have names already picked out, right?” I guessed, knowing the answer.

Ella flushed a delectable shade of pink, but didn’t speak.

“Well, come on—out with it,” I encouraged.

“Why don’t you tell me yours first?” she suggested. “Your real ones, I mean.”

Laughing, I agreed. “I’ve always liked Damon. Then there’s Gabriel, or Maxim… but my favorite is Orion.”

“Like the hunter, from the myths?” Ella clarified.

“Not to mention the stars,” I replied, thinking of the constellation.

“I like that idea,” she mused, smiling softly. “I always imagined that if I had a son, I’d call him Rafe.”

“Rafe,” I repeated. “You know that means wolf, don’t you?”

Ella stopped; I initially thought she was surprised, but when I looked at her, I froze. Her eyes were full of tears, her hand pressed to her stomach.

“Sweetheart, what is it?” I asked urgently, closing the distance.

“The baby,” she answered, her cheeks splitting into a smile. “He just moved. I think he might have kicked!”

“What!” I immediately placed my hand beside hers, grinning.

“It was when you said Rafe.” As the name left her lips, the tiniest bump fluttered against my hand, and we were both laughing. My eyes were shining, and I pulled Ella’s mouth to my own. “I think we just named our baby,” I said ecstatically between kisses.

We stayed like that for a long time, repeatedly saying the name and celebrating each kick. Through our bond, I could tell he loved our laughter and joy; soon, he was kicking just to make us smile. Eventually, we gave up shopping entirely. I took Ella home and lavished her with her favorite things—the self-care gifts I’d been unable to give her after the Wild Hunt. We spent the rest of the day curled up in front of a fire, reveling in our delight. Our future was still uncertain, but right now, everything was perfect, and I wasn’t going to take a single moment for granted.