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“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he growls into my ear.
I smile. “Goodnight, my love.”
Let it wait, Lucy, I tell myself. There’s been a lot of excitement tonight already. Save something good for tomorrow.
When I wake up, I blearily open my eyes to see that my man isn’t in bed with me. I sit up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. It’s Saturday, so he didn’t have to go to work, and I don’t hear him in the bathroom either. What could he be up to?
I hear footsteps on the stairs, and moments later, Brandon’s standing in the doorway with a steaming mug of coffee in hand. He looks so gorgeous with his black hair rumpled, wearing nothing but loose pajamas pants. His six pack makes me want to trail my tongue over the ridges, and those firm pecs are definitely worthy of a professional athlete.
“Morning, beautiful,” he says, smiling at me. “Coffee?”
“Please,” I beg, stretching out my arms. He laughs and gives me the mug, kissing me first on the forehead and then passionately on the lips.
“I’m making us breakfast,” Brandon rumbles, rubbing my back as he sits down on the bed next to me. “Would you rather have bacon or sausage links with pancakes and fruit?”
“Oh wow, you’re the best,” I chirp happily. “Bacon, please,” I decide. “Extra crispy.” There are few things I love more on this planet than breakfast, and breakfast being cooked by the man of my dreams? Even better.
“You got it,” he smiles. “By the way, Jasper managed to drag himself to another planning meeting for the prom, so it’s just you and me.” He tilts my chin up with his fingers and kisses me deeply again, and I can’t help but swoon a little. Then, Brandon’s heading back downstairs, whistling cheerfully, like the Earth didn’t just shudder.
I shake my head. How in the world did I manage to get so lucky?
With a jolt, I remember the big news I have to share today. Confident that Brandon is downstairs and won’t see, I lift up his oversized shirt to stare at my belly. It’s still its normal self, and there are no new bulges to be seen. Then, I place my hands gently on my stomach reverently and smile. It’s hard to believe that a new life is beginning inside of me.
I take a deep breath and get out of bed. I take a long, hot shower in the master bathroom, trying not to spend too much time staring at my tummy and wondering if I look any different yet. Then, I plop my long hair into a bun on my head, change into one of Brandon’s fluffy white robes, and go downstairs, following the wafting aroma of bacon.
Brandon turns when he hears me enter the kitchen and smiles. Immediately, I burst into laughter: he’s wearing a garish “Kiss the Cook” apron. He looks down with an amused grin.
“Someone gave this to me during a gag gift exchange one Christmas,” he explains, “and I just didn’t have the heart to get rid of it. It’s very functional.”
“I like it,” I say, sliding my arms around his waist. “But maybe I’m biased because I always want to kiss the cook.”
“Please do.” We lock lips, a soft moan escaping my throat as his tongue pushes into my mouth. But then, he pulls away before things get out of hand. “Food first, then more kissing,” he teases.
I sit at the table as Brandon serves our feast of golden pancakes, crispy bacon, and a gorgeous bowl of juicy berries. As my boyfriend pours me another cup of coffee, he plants a tender kiss on the top of my head. “Did you sleep okay?” he asks.
I nod. “I was worried I would have nightmares about Jasper and that woman, but thank God I didn’t.”
Brandon laughs. “Me, neither. I hope to never see my son having sex ever again, even in my dreams. I’m purging that visual from my mind forever, right now.”
I take a bit of bacon and smile. It’s definitely extra crispy, just like I requested. “I know, me too. By the way, thank you for breakfast, babe,” I say. “What’s the occasion?”
“Just you being here,” Brandon says simply. “You deserve to be spoiled.”
I beam at that and take a deep breath.
“You said Jasper’s at a prom meeting, right?” I ask.
Brandon nods and takes a drink of his coffee. “That’s what he said, anyways. Who knows? Maybe he just wanted to escape the house, after what happened.” But then he sighs and grows serious. “I meant what I said about looking for a psychiatrist for my son though. I really do think the Accutane is messing with his moods. You know, the acne medication he takes? But I also know how important it is to his confidence for him to keep using it. His skin has always been a major point of contention for him.”
