As they climbed out of the car, Amber spotted an elaborate white horse-drawn carriage ride at the end of the street. “Dash, look.”
“Your chariot awaits, sweetheart.”
“My chariot?” She looked at the carriage again, then back at Dash, her heart skipping a beat. “Really?”
“You’ve walked, and now we rest, while enjoying a ride through Central Park.” He drew her closer, holding his hot chocolate in his other hand, and kissed her. “I told you I’d take care of you.”
“You are the best, most romantic and caring man I’ve ever met, and you’re spoiling me rotten.” She went up on her toes to kiss him, and too excited to stand still, she took his hand, pulling him down the sidewalk. “Come on!”
They ran for the carriage, holding their hot chocolates out in front of them. Thank goodness for lids. They cuddled close in the carriage, sipping their warm drinks, serenaded by the clip-clop of the horse’s feet and the voices of people in the park. Amber rested her head on Dash’s shoulder, feeling like they were miles away from the real world. The city wasn’t scary at all today. It was thrilling and fun, and he really was making sure she didn’t get tired out. She imagined traveling with him to see all the famous bookstores. Oh, how she wanted that, to take life by the horns with the man she loved, going places she never thought she’d want to go.
She gazed up at him, seeing flashes of him in the stores in Times Square where they’d tried on funny hats, and picked out Emma’s outfit. It was so easy to picture a future together, planning a family, picking out outfits for their own kids, taking them on a horse-drawn carriage. She was getting ahead of herself, but it felt so right, she didn’t want to stop the fantasy.
“What are you thinking about, beautiful?”
Oh, just marrying you, that’s all. “That every time we’re together I think it’s the best time of my life, and then you top it with the next one.”
“Just you wait, sweetheart. We still have a ball to attend.” He kissed her. “I really wanted to call you Cinderella just then, but your life is not anything like hers.”
“I could be Belle. She loved books.”
“That’d make me a bad beast who locked you in a castle. I’m not digging that.”
She laughed. “How about we make our own fairy tale?”
“Like Dash and the Wildest Thing? Or Dash and the Bookish Vixen?”
“I’m not sure I want anyone reading about me being wild or a vixen. How about Amberella and the Dashing Prince or The Dashing Prince and the Bookish Belle?”
“Baby, you can call us anything you want, as long as I get to call you mine.”
WHEN THEY GOT back to Dash’s penthouse, they took Reno for a walk, and then they looked through the things they’d bought. Amber held up the outfit for Emma. “She’s going to look adorable in this.”
“She’d look cute in anything, but I am partial to ruffles these days.”
Thanks to him, she was much fonder of them lately, too. She’d even bought panties with tiny ruffles on them to wear to the fundraiser tonight beneath the elegant old-Hollywood style gown she’d bought from Jillian. “I hope Brindle doesn’t mind the ruffles. She’s not as girlie as I am.” She folded the outfit and put it back in the bag. “I can’t wait to have babies and buy them cute little outfits. I picture little girls in frilly dresses and boys in tiny jeans and boots. Or maybe the girls will be tomboys and the boys will be feminine. I don’t care either way. I’ll love them to pieces.”
He ran a hand down her back. “You’ll be an amazing mom. How many kids do you want to have?”
“Several. Five, six maybe.”
“You’ll be pregnant for years.”
“No, I won’t. I’m probably going to adopt or use a surrogate.”
His expression turned serious. “You don’t want to carry your babies?”
“I’d love to, but there are risks with seizures and pregnancy. They can decrease oxygen to the fetus or slow the fetal heart rate. I could miscarry or hurt the baby if I have a seizure and fall. I don’t think I could ever forgive myself if something happened to my unborn child.”
“I hadn’t thought about those things.”
“Why would you?” She took out the books they’d bought, looking them over as she said, “Lots of people with epilepsy get pregnant and have no trouble carrying their babies or giving birth, but you know me. I always err on the side of caution. I just don’t think I’ll be comfortable taking the risk.” She set the books down, and her stomach sank at Dash’s furrowed brow. “What’s wrong?”
“I just…” He shrugged. “Ever since last night I’ve been thinking about what it would be like if you got pregnant. I guess I started to picture you that way, and I liked it.”
“You did?” Her pulse quickened. She was elated that he was thinking in terms of a future together but worried about what her choices might mean for them.
“It’s not like I tried to picture it. But you know how I feel about you. My mind just went there.”
“Does it bother you that I prefer not to take that risk?”
“No, I just hadn’t thought about it.”
The disappointment in his voice stung. “You sound bummed.”
He drew her into his arms and set those eyes on her. “I’m not going to lie to you. I just started picturing you carrying our baby, and you took that away in a few sentences. I need a minute to digest it.”
Her throat constricted, and she lowered her eyes, fighting the wave of sadness engulfing her. “We should probably get ready.”
He tightened his arms around her, and she met his penetrating gaze. “Amber, needing to digest it doesn’t mean I don’t support your decision. It just means I need to wrap my head around the idea that I’ll never get to see you round with our babies or experience a pregnancy with you.”
“Okay. I’m sorry,” she said a little shakily.
“You don’t have to be sorry. It’s your body, and you need to do what’s right for you and the baby. I hadn’t thought about what a seizure could do to an unborn child. I just pictured you cute and pregnant and me talking to the round belly like a fool.”
“Dash.” Her eyes dampened. She could see him doing that, and it wouldn’t make him a fool. It would make him a loving father. If they stayed together, would it be fair to take that away from him?
A buzz sounded on the intercom, and a deep voice said, “Mr. Pennington, a Miss Oliver for you.”
“That’s for you, bookish belle.” Dash headed to the intercom and spoke into it, telling the man to send Miss Oliver up.
“For me?” Wishing they hadn’t been interrupted, she tried to push her worries away, at least for tonight.
“I might have hired Shea’s friend Indi Oliver, a hair and makeup artist, to help you get ready for the fundraiser.” He held up his hands. “Not that you need it, but I heard you tell my sisters you were worried about how to do your hair and makeup in old-Hollywood style, so I made a few calls.”
Holy cow. “Dash. I can’t believe you did that.”