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I look up at my best friend. “Getting some fresh air. Am I allowed?”
She narrows her eyes at Tyler. “You’re supposed to be keeping her under control!”
My dirty British boy snorts. “Yeah, like anyone could control Liv. She’s wild and that’s just how I like it.” He winks at me and kisses the side of my head.
I smile triumphantly. “Did you bring me chips? I want chips.”
Dayton blinks. “I wasn’t asked to bring you chips.”
I huff.
Aaron laughs. “Cravings.”
“You’d be craving food if you hadn’t eaten for days!” I grumble, grabbing Day’s arm. “Get me chips.”
With her at my side, Tyler guides us through the lobby and into the hospital store. I grab a six-pack of salted Lays and shove them at him with a charming smile.
“Please.” I bat my eyelashes at him.
He sighs, but the despondent feel to it is destroyed by the sparkle in his eyes and the twitch to his lips. “What’s in it for me?”
“I’ll stop talking about chips if I’m eating them.”
Dayton laughs as he turns to the register, his sigh real this time.
“Oh, you are one fun pregnant woman,” she snickers.
“I’m growing a person. I get to be fun, and for once, I can blame it on everyone else, because no one argues with a pregnant woman.” I grin.
Tyler hands me one of the bags and I tear it open. I dive my hand into the bag and stuff my mouth full of salted chips.
Oh my god.
So. Good.
The past three weeks of searching for a house have been completely ridiculous.
This isn’t big enough. That isn’t in the right neighborhood. It’s too far from Day’s place. You call that a kitchen? That bathroom tiling is awful. That’s not big enough for a nursery! Are you kidding? We’re supposed to share that as an office? I wouldn’t pee in that tiny room.
And it’s all me. Because when your boyfriend gives you a ridiculous amount of money to spend on a house, it has to be downright perfect.
Perfection or bust.
“How did your appointment go?” I ask without looking up from the laptop.
“It was delightful, same as the last few. But if she asks me to dissect my sexual urges one more time, I’m going to take my handcuffs and attach her to the fucking Space Needle.” Tyler walks into the apartment and dumps his bag.
“But it’s helping, right?”
“Helping me get a bloody hard-on! Do you know how hard it is to explain to these people that my addiction isn’t because my parents abandoned me as a child or didn’t love me enough?” He raises his eyebrows. “I just like sex. A lot. A lot of the time. Why don’t they get that?”
“Because they like to fuck with you.” I smile sweetly. “What did they talk about today?”
His face darkens. “When I slept with my student.”
My curiosity piques. I’ve never actually asked about it—why he did it. No matter how much I wanted to, it never seemed like the right time. Besides, it’s not dinner conversation, is it?
“And?” I ask, trying not to show my interest.
