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“Open…”
She leaned forward and wrapped her lips around the fork, and the sight of watching her tongue slither between her plump pink lips made my cock spark with interest.
“That’s a good girl. Wasn’t so bad, was it?”
She leaned back in the chair and stuck her tongue out in a disapproving manner. She had no idea how badly I wanted her tongue, along with her lips wrapped around the throbbing flesh in my jeans, but she would soon find out. Her phone vibrated once more, and I was reminded how much I hated this fucking Cody guy. I cut her chicken up into smaller pieces and urged her to take a few bites. We ate in silence, with only the sound of small whimpers pushing past lips each time she swallowed a piece of broccoli.
“He’s not th—”
“I have a list of things that I bought you. Most of it will be arriving in the next day or so.” I said, interrupting her.
She had her heart set on trying to tell me about whoever the fuck Cody was. I didn’t give two fucks because I knew the babies growing in her belly were mine. Her fork picked at the chicken, and her cheeks expanded as she blew out an exasperated sigh. I could see her eyes beginning to glass over, her lips began to tremble, and her chest began to rise higher with each exhale.
“Remy?” I asked as her left hand slid down to her bump, and a whimper escaped her lips.
“Remy? What’s wrong?” Her fork dropped to the floor as it slipped through her fingers, and before I could blink, I was kneeling below her. My hands were shaking frantically as I cupped them around her heart-shaped face.
“Just fake contractions, but they hurt like hell sometimes.”
“I didn’t read about that?”
She let a warm smile play across her face as she held her bump in her hands.
“You need a nurse,” I demanded.
“No, these sometimes happen at seven months.” Her hands dropped down from her bump, and her breathing slowly returned to normal. She said a nurse wasn’t necessary, but I didn’t give a damn what she thought. I was getting the best midwife money could buy, and she was going to be here before I put Remy to bed tonight.
* * *
A blond hairedwoman with round cheeks, a button nose, and a heavy American southern accent showed up at my door around 9:45 PM. I called Ian and told him I needed a midwife, and I wanted her here tonight. He made some calls, and within 2 hours, I could hear the chime from my private elevator. While we waited, I googled fake contractions, and she wasn’t lying, they were a thing, but that was no excuse not to have a personal nurse on call.
I wanted one for her, not only for her peace of mind but also for mine. The nurse sat next to her and pulled out her little notepad and a small pen. She asked standard questions about how far along she was, her doctor’s name, and her family history. Every question was routine, and I didn’t bat an eye until she asked about the father.
The air in the room became still, and I had a hunch the midwife knew it too. I watched as Remy’s attention swiftly turned from me and to the windows. She couldn’t answer, or she didn’t want to answer. Her face flushed, and she began to bite the inside of her lip, something that she did when her nerves started to get the best of her. The nurse asked again, and this time I interjected.
“I’m the father. No need to ask again,” I said, turning my attention to Remy. Her shoulders slumped forward, and her chest deflated as if I lifted a rock off of them. I honestly didn’t care if the babies weren’t mine. I was still going to take care of her and the babies, no matter what.
“Do you know the sex?” the nurse asked.
Remy whispered, “boys,” and I felt my heart grow inside my chest at that instant. Kids were never supposed to be in my future, but I did tell myself that I would prefer a boy if the opportunity presented itself. I wanted to raise them the exact opposite of how my father raised me. I wanted to raise them knowing they were loved, not just taken care of.
There’s a distinction between the two, and my father sure as fuck couldn’t differentiate. The nurse continued her questions as her hands roamed around Remy’s bump. Remy fidgeted with the bandage around her left ankle and explained to the nurse how she fell off the back of her school bus. Worry set into the nurses features, but was replaced with a warm nod when Remy told her it had no effect on the babies.
“She’s fine. Her vitals are good. There’s no need to worry about the fake contractions; it’s all part of the process.” She lifted her bag and began stuffing her belongings back into it.
“Do you sleep well at night?” the midwife asked as her eyes roamed the sterile-looking penthouse. Remy nodded.
“Well, I don’t have my portable ultrasound machine on me, so I can’t take a peek inside, but I would recommend you make an appointment for your seventh-month checkup. Once you do that, have the doctor send me the updates, and I’ll be in touch. Sound good?”
We both nodded in unison. I had a doctor’s appointment scheduled for Remy tomorrow morning. Once again, Ian came to my rescue and took care of that for me too. Damn, what would I do without him? He’s my business partner, and here I am, treating him like my assistant, but I wanted to keep this whole matter as private as possible, so that meant excluding my team. He’s gone through all this before with his sister, so he didn’t mind helping me get my footing on this.
Remy and I sat in the living room as we watched the midwife let herself out, and the sound of the elevator descending filled the space.Fuck, when did things become slightly awkward?The last few hours had been hell. Remy got quiet after dinner as we waited for the midwife, and it had me on edge. I had no idea how she was feeling, but I needed her to know that I would go to the ends of the earth for her no matter what.
She rubbed her bump, and a yawn pushed past her lips. I walked back into the kitchen, grabbed two bottles of cold water, and turned the lights out. She watched as I walked toward the door and put the alarm on before dimming the living room lights. Her curvy silhouette stood out in the darkness. I walked up to her, invading her space and grabbed her hand as I pulled her in the direction of the bedrooms.
“You passed the spare bedroom,” she said in a whisper.
I turned, fucking astonished at what she just said, and tilted my head to the side.
