Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
“Okay.”
I shouldn’t get too excited. Her acquiescence is probably because she feels too ill to argue. “Good girl.” I turn her back toward her desk and pull the bacon bagel over.
She opens the bag and snaps it shut again, her shoulders jerking. “I don’t think I can.”
She has to. She needs food in her belly. I get the bagel out and set it in front of her, and she stares at it, bracing herself while I silently will her on, patiently waiting for her to brave a bite, and when she does, she chews forever, the effort obvious. “Can I just eat the bagel?” she asks.
“Yes,” I sigh, pleased with her willingness. “Do you see how happy you make me when you do what you’re told?”
She doesn’t humor me, on a roll now, chomping her way through her breakfast. I can literally see the color rising into her cheeks with each bite. Don’t tell me I don’t know what’s best for my pregnant wife. She knows I’m not leaving here until she’s eaten, but I will leave here. That’s my flex. We’re figuring this out slowly but surely. “Happy?” she asks, even sounding better.
“Your color’s back, so yes, I’m happy.” Very happy indeed. I clear her desk so it’s ready for her to work and lean in over her chair, forcing her back. “Thank you.” A bit of gratitude doesn’t hurt, and the smile that mirrors mine feeds my soul. “My work here is done.” For now, anyway. I crush her smile with my lips and breathe her into me, setting myself up for the next fuck knows how many hours without her. “Now I’ll leave my wife to work in peace.”
“No, you won’t,” she says over a laugh.
“I might check in once or twice.” And that would be perfectly reasonable given her condition.
She laughs harder. “No, you won’t.”
I’m taking her amusement as a sign of her acceptance. “I won’t make a promise I can’t keep.” I quickly take a peek into Peterson’s office again. “Is Patrick here?”
“No. He’s in meetings all day.”
Hmmm. Is she stalling the conversation she needs to have with him about Van Der Haus? I glance at my watch. “You’ve made me late.”
“You make yourself late.” I’m forced away from her desk. “Go.”
“Feeling better?” I ask as I reverse my steps.
“I do.” She admitted it? Wow. “Thank you.” And gratitude too? Strike me down now.
I blast her back with a smile, kiss the air, and stride out, happy.
Perhaps a happy balance won’t be so hard to find after all.
19
I stop off at a pharmacy to pick up some folic acid for Ava, so I’m ten minutes late for my meeting with Owen Cutler, but it’s not a problem because there’s no one here, no cars, only Ava’s Range Rover, where I left it by the gates, and John’s car outside The Manor.
I stroll through the door and meet him in the hallway. “He’s not here yet?” I ask, motioning back to the empty drive.
“He’s running late.”
“Incredible,” I say in disbelief. He’s stalked me for weeks and then doesn’t even show up on time when I finally agree to see him. Prick. “How long?”
“He’s rearranged for four.”
“Four?” I look down at my watch like I need confirmation that that’s six fucking hours away.
“Did you take Ava to work?” he asks.
“No, she wouldn’t let me.” I can see John’s wondering how the hell she got to her office if she refused my ride and if he wasn’t there to take her. So I enlighten him. “Her Mini.” I scroll through Google on my phone for the number I need and dial. “Yeah, hi, I have a broken-down vehicle I need collecting from the NCP on Berkley Square and taking to St. Katherine Docks.” John’s head is shaking. I smile through straight lips and answer all the questions being fired at me by the man on the other end. I give my credit card details, my phone number, then thank them profusely for his help. “What?” I ask John when I’ve hung up. Stupid question, I know.
“If you’re having her old car towed and her new one is here, how is she getting home?”
“I’ll pick her up,” I say, shrugging. His eyebrows lift. “Okay, you’ll pick her up because she’s less likely to rip your head off.”
“I can’t cope with you,” he mutters, leaving me.
“Just wait until you find out we’re pregnant,” I say quietly. Although, apparently, not quietly enough.
John stops. Oh shit. Turns around. “What?”
“Nothing.” I still haven’t found the courage I need to tell John. Might never. “I’m going to get Ava’s Range Rover.” I start the long walk down the drive, passing through the trees, smiling at the newly discovered bench. I take a pew, since I have six hours to kill, and text Ava.
How are you feeling?