Page 113 of Unruly

That wasn’t going to happen.

His need to move—a constant restlessness that never left when he was awake—got him up and heading to the attached master bath. He eyed the items on the bathroom counter as he relieved himself. A makeup bag, and a few other essentials were scattered across the top. Things Catherine had dumped out from the bags she had taken on her trip.

Nothing else, though.

Only a few towels folded on the rack. The bottle of baby shampoo Catherine had grabbed for Cece from a store on their way to the brownstone.

The rest of the place would look the same.

Cross actually did like the brownstone safe house. It had a floorplan that allowed for fast movement if needed. It was tucked away in a beautiful part of Manhattan that wasn’t particularly busy, but was still within short distance to his people. The location of this particular place had never been shared with anyone other than immediate family or close friends. It would kind of defeat the purpose of its use when needed, after all.

He seriously hoped Catherine decided to do something with the place in her spare time. Fill it with more things. Decorate the walls. Whatever. Maybe get a maid on the payroll to come in once a week to dust, mop, and sweep. Keep the cupboards stocked.

Things it could really use.

He wouldn’t push, though.

On the bottom floor of the brownstone, Cross finally found his wife. Catherine sat on the window bench, overlooking the street outside. The way she was tucked against the wall likely kept her hidden from view.

Stretched across her mother, Cece snored beneath a blanket. All that peeked out was her mop of brown waves.

Cross leaned in the entryway, and watched them for a moment. Their quiet love did not need to be interrupted by him. It wasn’t often that he got to witness these times, either.

Considering how unruly their life always seemed to be, when could he?

“The king finally rises,” Catherine murmured, never looking away from the window. “I can see your reflection in the window, you know.”

“I didn’t, but hey.”

“Still tired?”

“Not so bad, now.” Cross folded his arms over his chest. “You could have woke me up, babe.”

“You looked like you needed it.”

“What time did you get up?”

“Around six.” She pointed at the girl sleeping on top of her. “Someone crawled into bed with us, and then I realized something else was playing basketball with my bladder. I couldn’t fall back asleep.”

“Speaking of the pregnancy …”

Catherine turned her head to look at him. “What?”

“Have you made an appointment with an OB-GYN yet?”

“It’s coming up. I did have bloodwork done before I headed out of state last week, too.”

“I know, I just—”

“Worry,” she said with a smile. “I know, Cross.”

He pushed away from the wall, and closed the space between them. Catherine’s hand left Cece’s back, and reached for him.

Cross intertwined their fingers, and weaved his hand into Catherine’s hair. Bringing her close, she rested her head against his hip. He bent down enough to kiss the top of her head, lingering there for as long as he could. He could never forget to remind her in any way he could that he loved her.

Every moment.

Every second.