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Neither Lucifer nor I can stop ourselves from laughing.
“Dude, you brought her on a job,” I say. “What did you expect?”
“It was date night, man,” James grouches at me. “You know how she gets.”
True.
Date night for Meghan is a pretty big thing. I fuck around on date night and I get the stink eye for the whole next day unless I rub her back and toes.
Standing up from my chair, I adjust the gun on my hip then stretch my arms out as I yawn. “Speaking of which, I’m out of here. Meghan wants to watch the new super hero movie tonight.”
“Don’t forget you and James have a meeting with the Italians Tuesday,” Lucifer says. “I want to hear about the proposal for those two office buildings they have up for sale in Phoenix.”
I nod my head at Lucifer. “Will do. I’m just happy they’re flying here to give us their pitch before they want our asses to come down there and look at ‘em.”
“Agreed,” Lucifer says. “Simon says the buildings look good, but we need to see price points and what exactly they want from us.”
“Meghan?” I shout into the house as I come in through the kitchen door attached to our garage.
A door slams upstairs.
Wincing, I already know which room she’s in. And by the resounding silence I get back from her, I know the mood she’s in.
Fuck.
Stupid fucking fashion magazines and all their fucking beauty bullshit.
Setting my gun on the kitchen counter with my wallet and keys, I look around at the small clutter scattered here and there in the room. We’re officially a family now. We have all the stuff that marks it so. The house we live in smells like us, looks like us, and feels like us.
Moving to the stairs, I take them two at a time, removing my coat as I go. Leaving the coat on top of the banister, I march my way down the hall to our bathroom.
Knocking on the door, I ask, “Can I come in?”
“No,” Meghan says quietly.
“Why not?”
I mean if she’s in there doing something I’d rather not see, I’m cool with that.
But I don’t think that’s it.
“I’m gross,” she says sadly through the door.
“Gross, how?
Did she puke on herself again?
“Go away,” she says, and I know now what it is.
“Do I need to pick the lock?”
“I’ll punch you,” she snaps.
I squat down in front of the door. “Picking it as we speak.”
“Don’t you dare!” she yelps, and I can hear her moving to the door to hold the lock in place.
“I can get my power saw from the garage,” I grumble as I jiggle the handle a little.
I don’t have my lock picks on me, actually. They’re down in my wallet on the kitchen counter.
“Dammit,” Meghan grumbles from behind the door.
I hear the door unlock, and I feel for her. Ever since she got pregnant, she’s been worried about the change in her appearance. Worried about the weight and the marks on the side of her hips.
I stand up and slowly open the door. Poking my head inside the room, I look at her and frown.
Standing in front of the mirror in her bathrobe, she’s pouting and keeping her body turned away from me.
Walking in, I wrap my arms around her. “What is it, baby?”
She’s a healthy weight for her pregnancy. She’s got nothing to be ashamed of. Fuck, some days she knows it. Wearing leggings and a tank top around the house. Bending over and teasing me with her body.
But some days it doesn’t matter at all.
“I look like an Oompa Loompa,” she whimpers. “With the way I waddle around the house, all I need is some green hair.”
It’s hard as fuck trying to hold in my laughter. I mean damn fucking hard. I try not to bust a side at the comparison. She’s right about the waddle. She walks like she’s carrying a bowling ball between her legs.
“Baby, you aren’t an Oompa Loompa,” I say and slowly begin to rub her round tummy.
“You just said I’m not one,” she whines. “Not that I don’t look like one.”
Yep, a no-win situation on this.
Time to shut up.
In times like this, there’s only one thing that helps.
Slowly I slide my hands down to her lower back and start pushing my thumbs into the sore areas she’s always complaining about. I can feel the muscles there almost knotted up like burls in a tree. This is one of the worst spots for her. All the weight from carrying the baby is hell on her lower back.
Moving my thumbs in slow circles, I gently kiss the top of her head. “I’m sorry, baby. I know you’re tired and sore. If I could trade places with you, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”
Leaning her head back into my chest, she groans.
Her voice comes out in a small gasp as I hit one of the really knotted muscles. “I know, and that makes you so fucking sexy in my book. Because you truly mean it. You’d take my pain and discomfort away and suffer with it if you could.”
