“Okay, now listen—there’s no reason we can’t talk about this like grown-ups.”

Rhett’s lying down beside you, one hand braced gently on your belly and the other under his head to support it. Inside, the baby delivers a solid kick. Then another.

He startles, eyes wide. “Hey! That’s not how we use our words!”

You can’t help but laugh, turning your head to bury your face in the pillows as another thump knocks his palm, and Rhett leans in dramatically, like he’s going to whisper state secrets to your stomach.

“I’m tryna tell you—your mama needs sleep. Real sleep. Not ‘wakes up every ten minutes because somebody’s training for rodeo’ sleep.”

The baby answers with a swift jab to the side.

“…That was uncalled for,” Rhett mutters, looking up at you with a boyish grin. “This kid’s ruthless. I think we’re raisin’ a tiny outlaw.”

He presses a kiss to your belly, sighs deeply, and flops dramatically against the mattress. “Don’t suppose either of y’all are interested in takin’ it easy today?”