I shook my head when Mom nodded.
“Fifty is too much,” I said but might as well have been silent.
“We need to get a registry going,” Mom told Helen, ignoring what I’d said.
“We do. I think I have a printout still somewhere from Ross’s son.”
“My kid is not going to be like Ross’s son,” Tyler spat out, that adorable, miserable way of his I’d always found inexplicably hot slipping out.
“Of course not. His kid is a little jerk, I agree, but he’s little enough that Ross’s wife had all the newest things. So much has changed from thirty-five years ago. And we need those new bottles too.”
Mom dug out a pen and pad from the junk drawer, nodding as she sat next to Helen.
“Well,” Tyler started as he stood. “I don’t think we need to be here for this. Olivia and I should get back to work.”
“Yeah, I’d agree.” I took his extended hand and made my way to the front door. “A congratulations would have been nice,” I said in a loud whisper that wasn’t acknowledged by either of them.
“I say let them do what they need to and we just show up.” He shrugged before opening the door and following me out into the hallway.
“That went…weirdly,” I said, still staring at my mother’s door.
“It did. We keep stealing all of Donnie’s wedding thunder.”
“I guess we do,” I said. “We put on a good show against the wall.”
“No regrets,” he said, pulling me close and tracing my jaw with the tip of his finger.
“Same here,” I choked out. “See you later?”
He slanted his mouth over mine, licking long strokes inside my mouth until I slumped against him, needy and drenched. Pregnancy had given me three speeds: horny, weepy, and hungry. Sometimes all at once.
“I’ll be waiting.”
It was an exhilarating yet scary thing to be this close to everything I’d never known I always wanted.
TWENTY-EIGHT
TYLER
Olivia was in a dead sleep, her arm gripped tightly around my waist as she cuddled into my side. I smiled at her contented sigh while my hand skimmed up and down her naked back. The quiet moments with her were the only things that calmed me from all the upheaval in my life. It was a good upheaval between the bakery taking off, the baby, and the amazing but still mostly unlabeled thing we had between us. Rent at my apartment was becoming a wasted expense as I was here most nights.
I always intended to leave in enough time to get a couple of hours of sleep before I had to set up for the morning, but every night it became harder and harder to go. My heart soared as I watched the swell of her stomach grow with my baby, satisfying the caveman in me. I loved the widened curve of her hips and her now even fuller breasts that pushed against every top she owned. Olivia was always the most gorgeous woman in the world, but pregnant she was a fucking work of art. A sexy, insatiable work of art that I couldn’t stop touching or tasting.
I peeked over her shoulder at the clock, then dropped my head back with a groan. I had a couple of hours until I had to go back to my apartment and get ready for the day. Too keyed up to attempt sleep, I gingerly inched away from Olivia and slid out of bed.
I poured myself a glass of juice and plopped down on one of her dining room chairs, scrubbing a hand down my face as I tried to decipher where the sudden rush of anxiety came from. There were too many options, but a big one was that I was running out of space at the bakery and needed to do something about it.
Even with a couple of new bakers, it was hard to keep up with demand and find room to store all the items we needed each day. Knocking down a wall and extending the space would be the perfect solution, but as Eli had said, I was dragging my feet and someone else would snatch it up if I didn’t make a move soon.
“Still thinking about the new space, aren’t you?” Soft hands massaged my shoulders and slid down my arms.
“You always think you’re so smart.” I leaned back and kissed her cheek.
“Because I’m usually right.” She slid into the seat next to me, that almost-sheer robe of hers leaving even less to the imagination the tighter it became. “So what’s stopping you from telling your landlord that you’re interested?”
“That all this will stop and then I’ll have a double rent?”
“As your social media manager,” she began, crossing her legs. The knowledge of her naked under her robe combined with that business tone had me hard as a rock despite my frustration. “I’ve told you there are other things we can do when you’re ready. I’ve just been keeping it mostly at a minimum because you don’t have a high budget. If you get the space, I can help you get more customers through the doors in a lot of different ways as long as you keep up the quality, which I know you’ll do.”
