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“Kayla?”

“No.”

“Heather?”

“No.”

“Katie?”

“No.”

“Mary?”

“No.”

“Sara?”

“No.”

“Callie?”

He strokes her hand, which covers her currently bare and flat abdomen as she responds, “No, and you seem pretty sure we’re having a girl.”

“No, I just know we have an unspoken agreement that if it’s a boy, his name will be Dwight.”

Pam twists in his arms. His bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, but under her disapproving gaze, he finally breaks out into his characteristic smirk. Pam smacks him teasingly, opening her mouth to protest, but he silences her with a kiss. He runs his hand up her side, cupping her breast, and down again, to tickle lightly at her hip, raising goose bumps along the way. When he breaks away laughing, she gasps, “No, his name will be Michael, obviously. Michael Scott Halpert.”

“Well now you’re not getting any tonight. Mentioning our boss is guaranteed to kill the mood, Beesly.”

She throws her head back and laughs, then whispers in his ear, “It’s only fair. You mentioned Dwight.” Her hot breath on his neck as she speaks sends a shiver down his spine. His Pam. Pregnant. The excitement rises in his throat and bubbles out in a grunt. They made this baby; them, together, theirs. He kisses her again as he rolls her gently over on top of his ready and waiting hips.

Later, as Jim falls asleep, one hand curved protectively around Pam’s waist, cupping her abdomen and the life growing inside, he hears her murmur sleepily, “No, we’re naming him James.”

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