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As I drift between states of consciousness, I find myself wondering how the hell Cass is single. It’s gotta be a choice. He must make a conscious effort not to settle down, and I’m so curious why because, platonic or romantic, fake or not, he’s exceptional at this partner thing. He takes everything in his stride, even me being a certifiable monster.
In my defense, I had a crap day. My favorite pair of jeans wouldn’t button over my stomach. Someone ate the expensive chocolate-covered pistachios I left in the staff room, even though I labeled the packet with my name. I got fined for the cigarette butts littering the front entrance—your stalkers, your problem, I believe were my landlord’s exact words. Plus, dealing with children for hours is hard enough but when you feel like shit, it borders on impossible.
And by children, I don’t mean my students. I’m talking about the immature posse of my colleagues getting a kick out of finding new, subtle ways to ruin my day. For one, the pistachio incident is highly suspicious. The sudden lapse of conversation whenever I enter a room is just plain obvious. And it can't be a coincidence that of the stack of magazines in the teacher’s lounge, at least five of them had pictures of me splashed across the front—and that’s another thing,meon amagazinecover.
I don’t get it. Why everyone cares so much. Why it’s such a big deal. Why some of my colleagues and fellow parents—not all of them, granted, as much as my paranoid brain might convince me otherwise—are acting like I personally offended them, or maybe robbed them of their chance to snag The Great Cass Morgan.
I keep waiting for the dust to settle. For people to realize I’m not all that interesting on my own. For the constant invasion of my privacy to become limited to excursions with Cass. But something tells me I’m holding my breath for no good reason—as long as I’m carrying the Morgan heir, my fucking shoe size is newsworthy.
A knock jolts me out of sleepy thoughts. “Yeah?”
The door opens a crack, just enough for the voice that says, “Just checking you’re alive,” to be heard clearly.
I sigh, slipping further beneath the plentiful bubbles. “Barely.”
“You hungry?”
Well, now that he mentions it. “Starved.”
“Do you…” He pauses, clears his throat. “Do you want me to bring it in?”
I freeze. Glance down. Decide the bubbles are enough to preserve my modesty, and even if they weren’t, the allure of Cass’ cooking is unignorable. Water sloshes as I sit up and hug my knees to my chest—even with the obscured view, something about laying flat out seems a little…inviting. “As long as you don’t judge me for eating chicken wings in the bathtub.”
Low, nervous laughter enters the room first. Then, a man with a plate balanced on one hand and his gaze on the floor and a hard set to his jaw.
It’s like despite this being his idea, he forgot I was naked in here. And he’s forgotten he’s seen me naked before.Andhe’s forgotten he’s done much more than justsee. He fumbles his way over like we haven’t been in far more compromising positions, and as much as I try to hide my amusement, I don’t do very well.
The smile I try and fail to conceal behind my bent knees snaps Cass out of his uncharacteristically awkward state. Setting the plate down on the caddy, he flicks bubbles at me. “Feeling better, I assume?”
“Yeah.” I tilt my head to grimace up at him. “Sorry.”
Not a hint of resentment mars his pretty face. “You can have as many tantrums as you want, sunshine, as long as you’re the one pushing a baby out at the end.”
“Deal.”
Crouching down, Cass folds his arms along the edge of the tub, propping his chin atop them. “You gonna tell me about your day or do I have to ask August?”
“This ‘ganging up on me’ thing y’all are doing is really not working for me.”
“This ‘being a brat’ thing you’re doing is really not working for me.” He cocks his head, the gleam in his eyes wicked. “Actually…”
As my hand slices through the water to playfully splash him, it displaces some bubbles. Almost instinctively, his eyes drop. Glaze over. Dart away a matter of milliseconds later but the damage is already done.
The deep rumble of his throat clearing makes me shiver—odd, considering the temperature in the room has just hiked up by approximately a million degrees. His white-knuckled grip on the tub has a more dire effect, makes me imagine those long fingers dipping beneath the water and gripping elsewhere. Curling around my thighs, coaxing them away from my chest, then apart, and then—
Jesus, Sunday. Get a fucking hold of yourself.
I avert my gaze. Occupy my racing mind with something entirely mundane, like counting the exact number of wings piled high on the dinner plate I forgot about. I’m reaching for one—nothing kills the mood like savagely ripping meat off a bone, right?—when my gaze snags on something else. I cock my head to read the spines of the stacked books I hadn’t paid much attention to until now, my breath catching in my throat as I do.
The Expectant Father. To Have and To Hold. The Books You Wish Your Parents Had Read. Others whose titles I don’t recognize but I know they’re baby books, pregnancy books, parenting books. On the top of the stack, there’s print-outs from Pottery Barn, Amazon, Crate & Barrel, everywhere you could possibly buy baby supplies, stapled together to make a thick booklet. When I flip through it with shaky hands, I find some things are circled. Others are marked with anxor a star. All of them have a few words scrawled like some kind of personal review.
I have to fight the urge to throw everything at the wall.
I always thought John’s indifference towards parenthood was hard but I was wrong; this is so much harder. Cass caring is so much worse because what am I supposed to do with it? How am I supposed to handle it? How am I supposed to do anything but fall a little bit in love with a man who has baby books as his bathtime literature?
Waving the makeshift catalog at him, I fight to keep my voice steady. “Please tell me you didn’t buy everything circled in here.”
“No.”I thought about it though, his slightly guilty expression silently adds. “Jackson and Nick recommended some stuff. I wanted to get your opinion before I bought anything.”
