Page 109 of Marked By the Devil

Viktor’s phone had started going off early, and we both groaned to have to get up.

We showered together and got breakfast, but it wasn’t the same without Paul being around.

“We’ll go visit him first,” he decided after we had coffee and a quick breakfast.

Correction—he had coffee. I still couldn’t manage it. Since I’d been cutting back on it so much, I was getting withdrawal headaches. I guessed that the morning sickness and changes in my appetite meant that I would be going cold turkey on caffeine.

I’d adjust. Just like I’d adjust to Paul needing a while to recover before coming back to the house.

We went to the hospital to visit him, and I was very pleased that he was awake and looking not worse for wear.

He greeted us with a slight smile. “You killed him?” he asked as a hello.

I nodded. I wasn’t ready to talk about it at length, but I was sure that he’d been anxious to hear it from me. “I did.”

Mindful of the hospital setting, I glanced over my shoulder in case anyone could hear. Even though Smithson had blasted my name on the news and called me a liar, I wasn’t made. No one was looking for me. Not yet.

“He showed up so suddenly and I didn’t have a chance to protect you,” he admitted.

“No one could have. He came in like a madman, armed and ready to kill,” I said. “Besides, if you’re going to be more on light duty now with these injuries…” I sighed dramatically. “Well, there’s only one job I can think of that would suit you.”

Viktor nodded, standing behind me as I perched on the edge of Paul’s bed. “Babysitter?”

“That’s what I’m thinking.”

Paul frowned, furrowing his brow, then his pulse kicked up on his vitals monitor. “A baby? You’ll have a baby in the house?”

We confirmed it, and he was excited to congratulate us both.

“It’ll be different when you come home,” Viktor told him. “I’m going to start renovations now.”

I peered at him. “Renovations?”

“For you,” he confirmed.

“Me? That’s nonsense. Your house is huge. There’s plenty of space for a nursery already.”

“For you,” he repeated. “I don’t want you to ever look at that spot where you were almost killed and remember it. I’m knocking out those stairs, adding on. Changing things up.”

I gawked at him, wondering if he was being sarcastic again. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I am.” He crossed his arms.

“I’ll get over the memories.”

He shook his head. “I won’t. And I want our home to only have the best memories to keep.”

I saw that I wasn’t going to get far arguing with him on that point, but it did excite me to hear him making grand plans for me to stay there permanently.

Of course, he’ll accommodate you.

You’re going to have a baby together.

We’ll live together.

I walked with him toward the maternity ward after we visited Paul.

We’ll live together even if he’s not ready to marry.