No, I’ll set the trap, and she’ll willingly walk into it. Into my arms and bed. As much as I hate not to do so, I won’t be able to say my vow, the sacred Shay promise tantamount to marriage, to her until she understands what it means. Not out loud, at least.
But I’ll be screaming it from my heart each time I slide inside of her soft heat. Every time I worship her swollen breasts. Mhmm...and her belly. I can’t wait to lick each and every purple stretch mark from the moment it appears until long after it fades into silver. Those are marks of beauty, and I won’t have Rosanna thinking anything less.
For the moment, I’ll have to settle for taking care of her in whatever way I can. Beginning with searching the internet for morning sickness remedies.
Damn. When I was a kid, I never would have dreamed that one day I’d have a wealth of information at my fingertips, ready to be called up at a moment’s notice. I’m glad for it, though, as I take note of the most common remedy—ginger.
With one final look at my future, I carefully stuff the pictures back into Rosanna’s purse, catching a glimpse of her phone. Indecision and curiosity compel me to slide it out, and when a lock screen lights up the display, I grin in pride even though I’ve been thwarted. “That’s my girl, keeping a good head on her shoulders.” I push it back and talk to the front pocket on her purse. “All right, little ones. Daddy’s gonna get Momma something to soothe her stomach.”
Albert’s just going to have to wait.
“Connor?”Rosanna’sapartmentdoorcracks open a bit more. She’s changed into a pastel green shirt that does insane things to her gray eyes, turning them a muted shade of blue. “Did you forget something?”
Armed with her purse, crackers, ginger ale, and ginger candies specifically marketed for pregnant women, I flash a grin at her. “No, but I brought you some things to help with the nausea.” As if she can’t see the bags I’m holding, I shift my arms to draw her attention to them.
“Oh!” she exclaims. “You didn’t have to do that! Do you want to come in and put that on the counter?”
Rhetorical question there. The better thing to ask would be how I’m going to leave her here for the night. But I’ll take what I can get. “Thank you, ma’am.” I step past her and take the three small steps into the kitchen, ignoring the silent taunts emanating from the picture of her and Silas. “You forgot your purse, too.”
“I’ve been driving myself crazy looking for it, thinking I must have left it in my car. It’s been a hel...erm, heck of a day.”
“Want to talk about it?” I casually ask as I wash my hands before browsing her cabinets for a glass. Not a one of them matches, and some even have chips and scratches. There’s nothing wrong with that, but I just want her to have more. I’ll give her the world once I make her mine.
“Make yourself right at home, why don’t you?” A wry, lilting laugh leaves her.
“I believe I will.” Pulling open the freezer, I take stock of its contents. Or lack thereof. Hidden behind the door, my lips flatten. She’s going to need better food than frozen dinners for her and our babies. How am I going to get her away from here? I compose my expression and pull out the ice cube trays. “You didn’t answer me. Want to talk about your day? I’m a damn good listener.”
For a few seconds, the only noise is the clink of the ice hitting the glass, then sizzling fizz as the ginger ale covers the frozen cubes. I understand her reluctance, I really do. I’m a stranger she’s only interacted with two times, or three if I count earlier today, but I can’t be the only one feeling this connection between us. It’s there, and growing stronger each time we see each other.
She searches my eyes for something, and I return her gaze, letting all my compassion and concern shine through. I must be successful, because she accepts the glass with a small smile of thanks and moves to the couch. “Why the hel—heck not?”
“Mind if I pour myself one, too?”
One eyebrow lifts. “Connor, you bought it. Please, help yourself to a glass and then tell me how much you spent so I can pay you back.”
“Absolutely not.” Something in my heart warms at the sound of my name falling from her lips. Pouring my own drink in a mismatched glass, I ignore her polite demands to know the cost and join her at the other end of the couch. Something pokes my ass, but I keep a straight face so I don’t embarrass her about the state of her furniture. I can’t help shifting a bit to get more comfortable, though, and she catches me.
“Oh! There’s a spring that keeps sticking out. Here, I’ll scoot over so you can, too.” Rosanna grabs a throw pillow from behind her and hugs it as she moves closer to the arm of the couch.
I hesitate, dying for the chance to be closer to her, but not wanting to be the cause of her vomiting again. “How’s my smell? Too strong?”
“No, everything seems to have settled down for now, thankfully. I don’t know that I could have thrown up much more. That hasn’t happened in years, but it’s just as bad as I remembered.”
“Yeah, it can be rough. I’m glad you’re feeling better now, though.” I angle myself towards her just a bit more, knee almost touching hers. “So, lay it all on me, kitten. Tell me all about your day today.”
“Kitten? How cute.”
She’s deflecting, but I’ll roll with it for now. “You’ve met Toto, but I also have a cat named Bagheera. Found him when he was just a tiny little kitten, but he was the feistiest little thing ever. Now he’s all grown up and spicy as can be. You remind me of him, though. And before you say anything, that’s a compliment.”
What I don’t tell her is how I love to pick him up and cuddle him after a long day. She’ll find that out firsthand soon enough, and I imagine she’ll be purring in contentment just like him when I drape her over me and rock us on the porch as the sun sets.
“Bagheera.” The name rolls off of her tongue as she plays with the beads of condensation on her glass. “Now that’s just adorable. I love animals, but never had any of my own growing up. Except for the neighborhood cat. Tom, we called him, because he was just an old tomcat. Very creative, I know, but he didn’t mind what he was called as long as he got chin scratches.” She sips a bit of her drink. “And for him to be as big as he was, he had the girliest meow that I’ve ever heard from a cat.”
I chuckle along with her.
“But then he got run over, and there were no more stray cats to befriend.” Rosanna’s voice quavers at the end, and a suspicious, watery gleam shimmers in her eyes. “God, I can’t believe I’m crying over a cat that died years ago. I’m sorry, it’s just these pregnancy hormones, I think.”
When she swipes at the wetness, I offer her my handkerchief. If there’s one thing my dad taught me, it’s to always have a clean handkerchief because it can come in handy when least expected. “Here you go, kitten. Dry your eyes and take a deep breath. Everything’s going to be all right.”
