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Nero still has his chin on his wife’s shoulder, reaching around to hold her arm up while he continues to inspect the bracelet. “You ever added diamonds to a pair of knuckles?”
“Jesus Christ, man.” I shake my head. “Do you want me to order you a fucking set?”
Nero looks up. “Yeah.”
I almost laugh. “You want it fucking sparkly?”
“Bet they break skin nicely.”
I take a moment to consider it and have to agree.
CHAPTER71
Val
“He’s overworking it.”Dominic shakes his head and takes another sip of beer.
“How do you know that? Have you seen this episode before?” King asks Dom from his spot on the couch between Savannah and Aspen.
Dom gestures to the television. “First, I havenotseen this episode. Second, any half-rate baker can see he’s about to overwork that dough. It’s gonna be like rubber when he’s done.”
I can’t stop my snicker over how disgusted Dominic sounds.
My laugh makes the arm he has around my waist tighten.
After what turned out to be a rather pleasant dinner, we moved to the living room to watch a marathon ofSecond Biteholiday episodes.
I think we were all surprised when Aspen, of all people, demanded that we watch the televised baking competition. But apparently, it’s her favorite show. She claims it helps her relax.
“How do you know this shit?” King can’t seem to let this go. And the way his jaw goes tight every time he looks this way, it doesn’t seem like he can let go of me sitting on Dominic’s lap either.
“I know it because I’m not a caveman,” Dom replies. “How do you not know this shit?”
Nero shoves a handful of popcorn into his mouth, looking back and forth between the guys before he tips his head to Dom. “Kitchen is fully stocked if you want to prove yourself, Chicago. Make me some cookies.”
“Nah.” Dom runs a hand up my arm. “I’m good where I am.”
I settle back even farther and rest my head against Dominic’s shoulder.
I’ve never seen Dominic bake. I don’t think I’ve even seen him cook beyond heating up leftovers. But every time I’ve been around his mom, she’s brought up something or another about baking. So I’m guessing he gets his expertise from her.
The contestant Dominic was talking about is now shaking his head, and when the good-looking male host comes over to ask what’s wrong, the guy says he has to start his dough over because he ruined it.
“Told ya,” Dominic says to no one in particular before he lowers his head to talk just to me. “You feeling okay?”
I nod and shift my arms until I’m hugging the arm he has around me.
I feel a little bad about making him, and everyone else, think I wasn’t feeling well.
But it’s not like it was a total lie. Ever since I saw that damn pregnancy test this morning and realized I was late, I can’t get it out of my head that I might be. And on the slight possibility that I am, I can’t drink.
And then, on top of that, I feel like maybe I’m crazy because there’s a part of me—a rather large part of me—that’s excited at the prospect.
But what sort of lunatic would be excited about having a baby with a guy she practically just met, who lied and tricked her into a marriage?
My mind clings to the word tricked, and I wonder…
Then I brush away the thought.
