Rhysand says yes.

*

"Happy birthday, bub!" MJ yells, crushing her in for a hug, and Andy laughs loudly, hugs her back.

"Drinks, drinks!" Sabina shouts, shoving glasses towards her best friends. They all chug it down, swaying to the loud music.

Andy's birthday is always her favorite day of the year—spending it with all the people she loves, just dancing and laughing and having a good time. Her surprise parties are never really 'surprise' parties anymore—but still, it's sweet her friends and her husband always go out of their way to throw her a party because they know she loves it.

She makes her rounds, hugging her co-workers from the bakeshop, the school, and the shelter, thanking them for coming, dancing with them, and she doesn't even realize she hasn't thanked her husband yet until his large hands come around her waist, lips to her ear. "Having fun, baby?"

Andy giggles, euphoric, twisting around to kiss him hard on the mouth. She's jumping on her feet. "Yes! Thank you!" She drapes herself all over his body and peppers his face with kisses, and Rhysand laughs. "I love you so much, thank you."

"Happy birthday," he whispers, wrapping his arms around her waist, kissing her head.

They sway just like that for a while, content in each other's embrace, and Andy presses her ear to his chest, hears his fast and strong heartbeat, and she smiles, content, closing her eyes. "Why is your heartbeat so fast?" she asks with a giggle, putting her hands on his chest, looking up at him.

Rhysand's own hands travel to her bare back, fingers gliding downward her skin. It makes Andy shiver, and her grin fades, hiding her face in his shoulder. "Because of this," is his answer.

It's pink and very short, with a halter top hugging her curves and a very flowy, pleated skirt.

But that's not what's making Rhysand crazy. It's her back being bare except for the two thin straps holding it together by her shoulders.

"Wanna fuck you again in it," Rhysand whispers, and Andy looks around frantically, praying nobody heard him.

He made love to her in this dress earlier before the party in their car. Flushing, Andy hits him weakly and hugs him around the neck. "Later," she mutters in his ear. In her heels, she doesn't have to tiptoe to reach him.

Rhysand's fingers reach where the dress finally has fabric around her waist. His other hand travels down where the skirt ends—it's not that far, given how short it is. "You're so gorgeous," he breathes, hands stroking her skin. "So, so beautiful, baby."

Andy grins. "It's still a later. I have a lot of guests, husband."

His smirk is wicked when he pulls back, and his eyes shine with humor. "I know. You want your present now or after the cake?"

Andy blinks at him. "You already gave me your presents. Your very expensive presents."

He bought her a very elegant Cartier watch, the Dolce & Gabbana toaster she's been eyeing, tickets to Greece for next week, and a burrito blanket.

Rhysand's mouth quirks upward. "There's still one last gift."

"Oh my God." Andy bumps her forehead on his shoulder, shutting her eyes. "Baby, no more. Please. How am I supposed to top all of these on your birthday? I can't—"

Rhysand takes her hand, and Andy hisses at the cold metal on her skin, and she stares down at the key pressed on her palm.

Her husband's face is impassive, watching her reaction, when he says, "This is the key to the nursery in our home."

Heart stopping, Andy's head raises to look at him.

"Yes," Rhysand says. "That's my gift to you. My yes."

Andy stares at him. "Are you—are you serious?"

Her husband nods once, lips curling upward. "Yes."

"Rhysand."

"Sunshine."

"Don't—don't joke about this," Andy whispers, bottom lip quivering, closing her hand in a fist around the key, shaking her head. "It's not funny."

"I'm not trying to be funny, baby," Rhysand tells her with a shrug.

Andy feels her tears come before they roll down her cheek, and she grabs her husband's face and kisses him.

She feels his smile pressed to her mouth, and he squeezes her hips.

"Can we leave my party early?" she breathes.

"It's your party," Rhysand says, half-smiling, and follows her out.

*

"Baby," Andy snaps, getting in the car, pressing the phone to her ear. She just came from spa day with her best friends and Madeline, MJ's mom, and she's supposed to feel happy and relaxed. She's not. "We can have sex while I'm pregnant, right?"

Andy imagines her husband blinking. "Uh, I don't know, sunshine. I guess, yeah."

"Would you?" she demands, eyebrows scrunching together. Dean looks at her from the front seat and gestures to her seatbelt. Andy smiles at him quickly in gratitude and puts it on. Then she snaps to Rhysand, "Even though I'm bloated?"

His laugh almost makes her smile. Almost. "You're not going to be bloated, baby."

"I researched! They say I'll gain weight, my boobs will get bigger and saggy, I'll have lots of mood swings and sickness, I—"

"'Women who have orgasms during pregnancy benefit from calming hormones and increased cardiovascular blood flow, and those benefits get passed down to baby,'" Rhysand reads, and Andy can hear the smug grin in his voice. "And apparently, you'll have several wet dreams. See? No problems about our sex life here, sunshine. In fact, I'll make sure the calming hormones and cardiovascular blood flow goes to our baby really well."

Andy's mouth curves upwards. Her heart warms at Rhysand's our baby. "Were you researching?"

"Well, when my wife is kinda worried she won't get fucked during the pregnancy, it's important to Google shit."

Andy laughs loudly. Then, she gasps, eyes widening. "You're alone, right? There's no one there with you?"

"I was actually in a meeting," Rhysand says, and Andy stops breathing. "I am in a meeting."

"Oh my God. Oh my God, Rhysand. Rhys, this is so embarrassing, why didn't you say so!" she screeches, hiding her very hot face in her hands.

"I'm kidding," her husband snickers. "That's payback for getting mad at me when I cheated on you in your dream. Take care, sunshine, text me when you're home. Love you so bad."

Andy rolls her eyes, sinking against the backseat. Still, she answers, "Love you too."

Dean looks at her in the mirror and asks, "Home, Mrs. Harton?"

"Yes, please. And Dean, it's Andy," she reminds him.

"Right." He grins. "Andy."

She grins at him. "Thank you."