Arthur laid with you on his cot, holding you tightly in his arms as he kissed the length of your neck. His hand rubbed your side lovingly, inhaling your intoxicating scent.

“You know…” He began, his voice gruff, “How does Violet sound for a girl’s name?” He asked, his lips still pressed against your flesh.

Arthur has had a bad case of baby fever recently. He has practically been begging for a child — but you were unsure of the thought.