Now that made me feel something.

And the black bowls on the chest were gone. Even though the wall above it was filled with photos, along the top off the vase of flowers, the chest was filled with more.

And those were just Knight, me or us together. Color and black and white, in Slade, at Thanksgiving at Rhashan and Vivica’s, at my spa, at Sandrine’s crazy wedding, in our apartment, dozens of silver framed photos sitting on the chest, jumbled. You had to get close really to see any of them. But I loved them. Mostly because Knight loved them too. So much, he got into it and, not often, but it happened, I’d be sitting on the balcony or at a stool at the bar, I’d turn my head and see he was taking a picture of me.

I returned the favor.

I loved the photos someone else took of us together.

The photos we took of each other were a close second.

It wasn’t much (though it all cost a fortune) but it made Knight’s apartment our home. It didn’t look like a museum. It felt like a place where people lived happily. Something which was true.

Even though it still was kickass.

I grinned to myself and walked out of the kitchen, switching off lights on my way. I went to the hall closet, got my sleek, black, to-the hip evening trench with the soft sheen and shrugged it on.

Then I walked to the door and stopped at the narrow table I’d put there that had a big, oval bowl on it where we tossed our keys. I grabbed my keys and looked up.

Then, as it always did when I saw it, pure joy slid through me.

Knight’s only addition to making our house a home, outside my ivory roses in the bedroom, was what was mounted on the wall above that table. It was hanging there, I knew though he did not say, so we would see it every time we came home and dumped our keys there and every time we left.

When I moved in, he’d found the faulty cell phone I never got around to throwing out probably because it meant something to me. Then he’d had it mounted between two sheets of square glass framed in a black frame.

The frame and mounting was awesome.

The cell phone wasn’t that attractive.

I adored it.

Adored it.

My eyes dropped to the sparkling band glittering on my finger that Knight slid there last night.

I smiled huge.

Then I walked out, took the elevator down to the garage, walked to my shiny Mercedes and got in. Then I buckled up, pulled out my phone, started my car and drove out.

When I hit the street, I grabbed my phone and found Knight.

Two rings then, “Babe.”

“I’m in my car on the way.”

“Right. See you soon.”

“Okay, honey.”

Disconnect.

I drove to the club and slid in behind Knight’s Aston Martin.

The sign on the wall in the alley by my car said, Space Restricted – Ms. Gage

It hit me then that Knight was never going to give me his name. But, in doing so, I’d never lose the one my mother and father gave me. All I had left of them except memories would always be with me.

And when it hit me, it hit me sweet.

I bit my smiling lip, got out and Kurt was there.

“Hey, honey,” I greeted, moving out of the door he moved toward to close.

“Yo,” he grunted.

I again bit my smiling lip.

Kurt. Seriously. He said practically nothing. Still, I found him hilariously funny.

He put a hand light on the small of my back and guided me to the backdoor.

We walked through and I headed to the door of the stairs leading to Knight’s office. I felt Kurt’s presence leave without a word. As was Kurt’s way, the job was done, he moved on. He liked me, this I knew because Knight told me not because Kurt showed me.

Hernando, the security guy at Knight’s door, smiled at me as he opened it.

“Hey, Anya.”

“Hey, Hern,” I muttered, rolled up on my toes and touched my lips to his cheek. I rolled back and caught his eye. “Is Knight up there?”

“Yup.”

Goodie.

I grinned at Hern, walked through the door and started up the steps.

The club sounds muted as the door closed behind me and my happy mood suddenly slid clean out of me.

Knight was up there. His ring was on my finger. The wide, brushed gold band I’d gone out that day to buy him was in my bag.

And I had to tell him my secret. Time was sliding by. He’d done something beautiful for me and would expect me to snap out of the quiet, reflective mood I’d been in and if I didn’t, he’d wonder. Then he’d get impatient when I didn’t share.

I needed to share.

I stood outside his door with my hand on the knob, my eyes to my hand.

I had to do this now.

Face his anger, discuss and, God, God, maybe yield.

I turned the knob and walked in.

He was standing at his window wearing a dark suit and a wine red shirt, both looked great on him as usual, and the instant I walked in, his eyes cut to me.

“Gotta do somethin’ about that bitch.”

Damn.

God, Sandrine.

I heard the door close behind me as I took a few steps in and stopped.

“What’s she doing now?” I asked.

“Pissin’ me off.”

Oh boy.

“Knight –”

“Have words with her, Anya.”

I drew in breath and nodded.

“When you go down, I’ll call Kurt. You, Viv and Kurt get her ass in a taxi. It takes her home and she goes out again, that’s on her. She comes back here, babe, she drinks easy and she doesn’t piss me off. She’s got one more shot. Then she’s not in my club again.”

“Okay,” I agreed.

He studied me.

“Been two hours, babe,” he declared, this being the amount of time we’d been apart and I knew he was not happy I was standing across the room and not close, giving him a kiss.

“Do you remember the flu I had a few of months ago?” I blurted.

His head jerked and his eyes narrowed. I understood this. What I’d blurted made no sense. Also, he wanted me close and he wanted my kiss. I never denied this. Ever. Because I wanted both too. And he also very rarely had to ask for it since I very usually just gave it to him.

“What?” he asked.

“Remember that flu that knocked me for a loop a few of months ago? You know, when I was in bed for forever and –?”

“I remember.”

I pressed my lips together and rolled them.

“Anya –”

“I was so sick, I missed taking my birth control pills,” I whispered.

His body went visibly solid.

Oh boy.

Okay, all right.

Right.

“I told you,” I kept whispering. “And we used condoms for a while. One, um… must have broken or, uh… something…”

I trailed off.

Knight didn’t move, his eyes burning into me, his face impassive.

Not a good sign.

I kept whispering, my eyes glued to him. “I’m pregnant.”

He moved not a muscle and said not a word and he did this for a long time.

Even I could barely hear my voice when I said quietly, “I want to keep it, Knight. And I want that badly.”

Knight gave me nothing.

I wanted to close my eyes, cry, beg.

I wanted this baby. His baby. I wasn’t expecting it. We’d never discussed children.

But I wanted it.

Like I said…

Badly.

“I think I’ve known for a while,” I shared quietly and carefully. “But I took a home pregnancy test um… a bit ago. Then to confirm I went to the doctor Monday. I’m ten weeks.”

Knight didn’t move.

“Honey.” My voice was shaking.

That was when he moved but not to me. Nor did he say anything. He lifted his hand, shoved it inside his jacket and pulled out his phone, all the while his eyes on me.

My heart started beating as my stomach clenched. I didn’t know what this meant but it terrified me.

His eyes dropped to his phone as he hit buttons but they came back and pinned me to the spot when he put the phone to his ear.

I stood still, my eyes held captive by his and I waited.

“Hey, yeah, Knight,” he said into the phone and I tried not to hyperventilate. “Got news. Anya’s pregnant. Ten weeks.”

I blinked and when I was done, his eyes were still on me.

“Fuck, Mom, I know it’s great fuckin’ news but stop screamin’.” Pause then, “Fuck, give the phone to Dad.”

My eyes filled with tears and there was no way I could control them. They spilled right over.

He didn’t take his phone from his ear when he ordered low and slow, “Babe, get… over… here.”

Tossing my clutch across the room to the couch, I flew to him, my body colliding with his, my arms wrapping around tight and his arm did the same, holding me close.

I felt his lips at the top of my hair and then, “Dad? Yeah. Yeah, she isn’t lyin’. Anya’s carrying my baby. Ten weeks.” Pause then, “No. Unexpected. She got sick a while back, flu, missed some pills.” Pause then on a squeeze of his arm in a gentle, soft voice, “No, Dad. It’s good. We’re happy.”

“It’s good.”

“We’re happy.”

He talked more but I didn’t hear much mainly because my body was bucking against his due to my sobbing.

Then he said his good-byes, shifted me so he could pry me away from his frame and put his phone back in his pocket then both his arms wound tight around me.

“Babe, eyes,” he ordered gently and I tipped back my head. His eyes moved over my face then caught mine. “You didn’t want a ring. You wanted my baby,” he whispered.

“Yes,” I whispered back.

“Mom’s fuckin’ beside herself,” he shared something I guessed.

I’d met his parents, three times.

They’d been to Denver twice. The second time for a nice visit. The first time Carl came out with Knight’s Mom to deal with Nick.

Nick now lived in Hawaii with Carl riding his ass. He was clean of blow, Carl’s first order of business. But he was still “dicking around” (Knight’s words). Though, “At least it gives Dad somethin’ to do. He doesn’t golf. He doesn’t surf. He doesn’t garden. He cracks heads. He was goin’ crazy. Now he’s got a head to crack,” (also Knight’s words).

We’d also gone out to see them. When we did, we saw Nick. To me, he’d changed. He was far less of an asshole and he’d actually found a quiet moment just him and me to apologize and, I thought, do it sincerely. Knight warned me not to be fooled. He explained Nick could get contrite then Nick could turn back into an asshole. Luckily, while we were there, he didn’t slide back into the asshole.

And, it should be noted that although Nick took the time to apologize to me, he didn't take the time to apologize to his brother. Something I didn’t like all that much. Something Knight took in stride. Therefore something that clearly had happened before, repeatedly, this an assumption I’d made that Knight had confirmed when I asked him.

I tried to smile through my tears and replied, “Good.”

“Dad’s pleased.” He kept sharing.

“Good,” I repeated on a hitched breath.

His arms left me so his hands could cup my jaw, his thumbs sliding through the wet on my cheeks and he ordered softly, “Baby, quit crying.”

I drew in a shaky breath. This didn’t work so I drew in another one.

On the fourth, I got it together.

“That’s it,” he muttered, his thumbs still moving through the wet.

I held onto him and held his eyes.

“You’re carrying my baby,” he whispered.

“Yeah,” I confirmed.

“You’re carrying my baby,” he repeated, his voice lower, gruff, thick.

I felt my nostrils quiver but I held it together and nodded.

His forehead dropped to mine, his nose slid along mine but his hands never left my face and I held my breath as he whispered with feeling, “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.”

Slowly, I closed my eyes.

He wanted this, my man. He wanted me to have his baby.

I opened my eyes.

“You’re happy?” I guessed, my voice quiet but the words were still pitched high with hope.

“Fuck, baby, yeah. Fuck yeah. You got my baby in you.”

“I was worried you’d be angry,” I admitted and his face went away just an inch.

“I get that. We haven’t discussed it. Though, sayin’ that, been thinkin’ for a while about talkin’ to you about it. Puttin’ that ring on your finger reminded me I needed to get to that. Fate jumped the gun. I’m not complaining.”

God, God, God.

I loved this man.

“So you want kids?” I ventured even though the answer was obvious.