Total pages in book: 19
Estimated words: 17750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 89(@200wpm)___ 71(@250wpm)___ 59(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 17750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 89(@200wpm)___ 71(@250wpm)___ 59(@300wpm)
“Did you have a good nap, sleepyhead?” I set the kitchen timer then turn to study her face, looking for any tell-tale signs that she’s sick. But there are no bags under her eyes, and she looks the way she always does when she sees me. Happy.
She nods. “Why are you making me dinner? It’s my turn to cook.” She moves to the sink. “Then I’m on clean up duty.”
I stalk over to her and gesture to the island. “No, you’re not. You’re going to sit down and tell me about your day.”
She frowns. “But—"
I smack her ass. I love the fact that she wears just her panties when she’s at home with me. I also love how easy that makes it to spank her whenever I get the urge.
She scowls but doesn’t try to argue with me again.
Instead, she grabs a chocolate milk from the fridge and takes a seat on one of the barstools at the island. “I wanted to do the grocery shopping. I just needed to sleep for a little bit first.”
“It’s not a problem,” I reassure her as I wash the salad. Since she’s been sick, I’m trying to encourage her to eat as many fruits and vegetables as possible. I’m hoping the extra vitamins will help her.
“You have a doctor’s appointment Thursday afternoon. I checked your schedule before I made it and I’ve already taken the time off work.”
She frowns at me. “Why?”
“You haven’t been well.” I don’t look at her while I rinse the romaine lettuce. I don’t want her thinking about her mom and making the same connection I have.
I’ve infiltrated enemy camps, jumped out of moving airplanes, and traveled through remote stretches of jungle with only a few survival supplies strapped to my back. None of it has ever worried me.
But the thought of losing Atlas fucking terrifies me.
“Eric, look at me.”
I school my features, hoping she won’t read it on my face.
“I don’t think I’m sick.”
I’m not sure if it’s denial or a positive attitude. Either way, there’s no reason for her to worry yet. I’m doing enough of that for both of us. “I know you’re not sick. But it’ll put my mind at ease.”
She finishes her chocolate milk in one final chug. She grasps the end of her black t-shirt, twisting it around her fingers.
“I’m not sick,” she repeats.
I abandon the salad and step around the island. I pull her into my embrace, and she wraps her arms around me. “It’s OK to be scared. Whatever happens, I’m here for you, baby.”
She pulls away from me to stare into my eyes. “There’s a pregnancy test in my purse. I’ve had it with me since yesterday. I just haven’t taken it yet.”
The air leaves my lungs in a whoosh. All these things that I thought meant she was sick—could they mean something else entirely?
Her words register. She thinks she’s pregnant but she’s avoiding confirmation.
I cup her face, hoping she can hear the truth behind my words. “I know I’ve joked about breeding you. But I’d never ask you to go through with a pregnancy that you didn’t want.”
Her eyes fill with tears. “I don’t want to be disappointed if it’s negative and I didn’t want you to be disappointed either. That’s why I didn’t mention it.”
I wipe a tear away. “We’re in this together. We share our disappointments and our joy.”
She nods and sniffs. “Will we be OK?”
“No matter what happens, we’ll come back into the kitchen and have cheesy lasagna. Then I’ll take you into the living room and we’ll watch a movie while I charm you out of your panties.”
She giggles and clutches at my fingers. “Will you stay with me while I do this?”
“Of course,” I kiss her on her forehead. “Now, let’s go figure this out.”
She takes the test from her purse and disappears into the bathroom. I hover by the door, waiting for her.
She finally opens it and gives me a tense look. She holds up her cellphone which has a countdown timer set.
I take her other hand in mine and give it a gentle squeeze. “Let’s be happy either way. If we’re having a kid, that’s amazing. And if we’re not, then we still have a couple of years of crazy sex to look forward to.”
She gives me a nervous smile. “Both of those options sound pretty good to me.”
To distract her from worrying about the results, I talk to her about Mexico. “The first moment I knew I wanted you was when I saw you in that little purple one-piece at the pool. The one with the lace on it.”
She giggles. “I let that skirt drift up repeatedly just so you’d see my ass. But you kept sitting on your lounge chair reading. You never made a move.”
I groan. “I remember seeing your ass. I didn’t know you were doing it on purpose. Then I spent the rest of that trip jacking off every time I was alone.”