Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 56651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
I tiptoed down the stairs and looked at my phone. I would check on her in twenty minutes with a bottle of cold water from the cooler and one of the mini bottles of ginger ale I had in the back of the car, which was probably verging on hot ginger ale by now.
Gross, but for some reason my adorable wife liked her ginger ale warm when her tummy was acting up.
“Everything cool, man?” Jack asked when I came downstairs. I looked at him. He looked at me. And then he winked. Jack actually winked. I would never have believed it if I hadn’t seen it for myself.
“Aw, fuck man. You know, don’t you?”
He didn’t say anything. He just smirked the tiniest bit. The man was basically made of stone. But if you knew him well enough, you could see the tiny quirk at the corner of his mouth and read between the lines.
Basically, Jack was laughing at me.
It was hard to be mad at someone who was pretty much your ideal hero. All the guys looked up to Jack. Hell, even guys in other clubs looked up to Jack. How could you not? And it wasn’t just because he was more or less a giant.
The man was a bad ass biker, brilliant mechanic, custom bike designer, loyal to a fault, righteous, protective, kind, funny, scary, deadly in a fight, and trustworthy. He was pretty much a benevolent, human mountain. Big brother didn’t begin to cut it. So yeah, if anyone knew about Melissa’s pregnancy ahead of schedule, I was glad it was him.
“Happy for you, man,” he said, slapping my back. “Ginger ale is in the fridge,” he added. The man loved his ginger ale. Something all the ladies knew from having morning sickness over the years. He was always happy to share.
“She likes it warm,” I said. “Got some in the car.”
“Whatever the lady wants.”
He made a slight crinkling of his nose to indicate that he found warm ginger ale unappealing. I just laughed. It was a weird pregnancy thing, for sure.
I jogged outside and collected a mini bottle, looked at the two bleeding fools on the porch with a head shake, and headed back upstairs with my supplies.
I settled into the chair to watch my woman sleep.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Melissa
“Rise and shine, sleepyhead.”
“Hmmmfff? What time is it?”
“It’s getting late,” Nick said, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking so handsome I nearly melted. He held up a cold water and a small bottle of ginger ale. “Hot or cold?”
“Hot,” I said, feeling the roiling nausea rear its ugly head. “It’s not really hot, is it?” I asked worriedly.
“Room temp. Been here a while.”
“Here?”
“Watching you sleep. I did go down when people started to leave, though.”
“I missed the party.”
“You didn’t miss a thing, little miss FOMO. You needed your rest.”
“You’re right,” I said, sitting up and taking the bottle of ginger ale from his big, strong hand. After he opened it for me, of course. He was always doing cute little things like that for me.
I couldn’t remember the last time I opened a jar around the house.
“Feeling up for the drive home?” He asked solicitously. “We could stay the night if you want to rest. Kaylie already offered,” he added.
“No. I’m okay. Thank you,” I said, standing up. “Does she know why?”
“No. But you can tell her if you are ready, babe. Jack guessed.”
“I am not surprised since they have more children than the rest of us put together,” I said with a wry smile.
There was a reason we called Janet the general. And it wasn’t just because she was smart, sassy, and bossy as hell. A big part of it was that she had literally grown herself an army of healthy, tall, redheaded little hellions. They ran amuck at every single club family event, raising good natured hell wherever they went.
Just like their mama, I thought fondly.
My stomach felt extremely empty but I felt okay. I wasn’t going to throw up on the ride home, I realized with relief. I hated throwing up more than almost anything.
I was overjoyed about the baby, but the puking I could do without.
The drive home was quiet and peaceful. I kept my window partially open, the fresh cool air keeping my stomach in check. When we got home, Nick tried to carry me inside but I shook my head.
“Don’t want to get dizzy,” I said so he didn’t feel bad. I knew he loved taking care of me. It made him feel important. And it made me feel loved, valued, and appreciated.
I sat at the kitchen island while he made me some soup. It was the best place in the world. I was at my happiest in our pretty kitchen, built by my husband with his two hands, watching my gorgeous man looking after me. As I ate, I started to feel less hungry and a lot more… hungry.