Perfect for You

listened to his heartbeat and whispered, "You're mine."
    He kissed her brow. "Just how it's supposed to be."

 
Epilogue
     
     
    One Year Later
     
     
    "Are you excited?"
    Freya looked up. His wife lay across the couch with her head in his lap. She wore one of those tiny tank tops, without a bra, God have mercy, and a pair of shorts. Boy shorts, she called them, but no boy he knew wore shorts like that. One of her feet dangled off the end of the couch, bouncing up and down every now and then. When it moved, her anklet winked at him as if goading him into action.
    "Not at all," she said nonchalantly.
    Greg grinned, twirling one of her curls around a finger. "Is that why you've read that article ten times?"
    She pursed her glossless raspberry lips indignantly. "I have not read it ten times. I've been looking over the other articles in this magazine."
    "I didn't realize that you were interested in a"—he tipped her hand to be able to see the newspaper—"Brazilian midget dance troupe."
    "I've heard they can samba like no one's business," she said with a straight face.
    "I'll bet."
    They both knew that Brazilian dancers weren't what captured her attention. It was the main article, which highlighted the Webby Awards. She'd won artist of the year for her Sin City design.
    The success had brought her another high profile site to redesign. The imminent launch had Freya vacillating between boundless exhilaration and abject terror. Greg didn't think she had anything to worry about. She'd put her body and soul into the design. They were everything she was: sexy, classy, beautiful, and exciting.
    She insisted that she was manic because she'd lost her partner-in-crime. Eve had decided to jump ship and open a cafŽ, much to her father's dismay.
    He believed Freya's mood swings were because of the baby.
    Greg ran his hand over her taut, distended belly. He couldn't keep his hands off her. At six months along, she still looked exactly the same except for her stomach, which grew rounder every day.
    He felt their baby kick under his hand. "She's going to be a soccer player."
    " He is probably just stretching his legs," Freya retorted, still perusing the article.
    " She is practicing her martial arts. She's going to be a black belt."
    Freya smiled indulgently. They'd decided to let the sex of their baby be a surprise, but she was certain it was going to be a boy. He wanted a passel of girls, all of them with shiny red-hot curls and big amber eyes.
    Life had changed dramatically for Greg over the past year. He rushed Freya to the altar as quickly as humanly possible. He didn't want to take any chances on her changing her mind. After they got back from their two-week honeymoon in Rome, they bought a house, not far from their former apartment building. It was modern, with three stories and plenty of bedrooms to be filled out with children. Freya had fallen in love with the kitchen, which was professional grade, but when she saw the two-person Jacuzzi tub in the master bathroom she was sold.
    Greg smiled. If a little bubbly hot water was all it took to keep her happy, he was a lucky man indeed.
    Freya had cut down her hours at work the past month, only consulting as needed.
    He still had his office downtown, but he worked from home as often as his clients permitted it. He hoped to transition into half his time there and half at home by the time the baby arrived. He wasn't going to be an absentee husband and father, like his father had been.
    Anna had moved into Freya's old flat. She was excelling in law school and thinking about practicing malpractice law, unsurprisingly. She was thrilled about being an aunt and already plotting what she needed to teach the baby. She and Max stopped by whenever their schedules permitted.
    The baby kicked again. Freya's hand joined his on her stomach. "Will you still love me when I'm as fat as a heifer?"
    "There'll just be more of you to love."
    She grinned. "Oh, you're good."
    "That's never been called into question. And though I love your body and the way look, they aren't what I love most about you."
    She turned onto her side, facing him, her hand stealing under his tee shirt. "What do you love most about me?"
    "Can I list the top five?"
    She nodded solemnly. "Go ahead."
    He ticked off each item on his fingers. "One. I love that you can cook."
    Freya whacked him on the chest with an indignant frown.
    Greg laughed. "Well, if you didn't know how to cook, we'd have to eat out all the time. Think of all