“What’s this?” I cocked my head at Sylas who was digging through the refrigerator.
“Why don’t you open it and see?” he countered, closing the fridge and walking over to kiss me.
“Such a cute bag,” I mused, lifting out the tissue on the top to reveal a leather-bound book. Pulling it free, my heart flip-flopped at the sight of my sonogram picture tucked into a protective sleeve on the cover under the headingWelcome to the World.“Oh!”
Flipping the cover open, I saw that the first page had already been filled in in navy blue. The date and other information from the doctor’s visit were all carefully penned in Sylas’s neat script. Tears filled my eyes and overflowed down my cheeks as I looked up to see Sylas watching me with an affectionate smile. “You did this for me?”
Sylas stroked my cheek. “What do you think? Will that work for a frame?”
Awestricken, all I could do was nod as tears continued to roll down my cheeks.
Sylas seemed to understand. He sat down in the seat next to me and grabbed my wrist, tugging until I moved to sit on his lap. Cuddling me close, he murmured sweet words about how special I was as I sobbed against him, soaking his shirt until I was drained.
“I think that’s the sweetest thing anybody has ever done for me.” Forcing myself to sit up, I gave him a watery smile. “Sorry about the breakdown. I absolutely love the baby book. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Sylas wiped the tears from my cheeks and chin with the tail of his shirt and then pulled it over his head and threw it in the direction of the laundry room. “Why don’t we go lay down for a bit and then I’ll fix dinner.”
“Isn’t it my turn?” I reminded him, unsurprised when he just rolled his eyes and helped me to my feet. I yawned and shook my head. “Never mind, we can argue about that when we get up.”
Sylas laughed and stood, leading me to the bedroom and tucking me into the big, comfy bed before curling his body around me in a protective shell. “Sleep, Tiger. I’ve got you.”
Chapter Eighteen
Sylas
“Is thatanotherpresent?”
Paul’s voice stopped me in my tracks as I snuck in through the back door, absurdly raising the nearly four-foot stuffed toy to hide my face. “Who, me?” I asked in a high falsetto, pulling Mr. Panda’s arm over his chest in shock. “No one here but us Pandas!”
Paul giggled and I lowered the bear, peering over his head as I attempted to change the subject. “Aren’t you supposed to be napping?” Paul’s sexual appetites had been rapidly growing as his belly began to swell, and asdedicatedas I was about ensuring that his needs were met as many times a night -or day- as they needed to be, I’d noticed that it was interfering with his sleep schedule, prompting me to declare from noon to two every afternoon naptime.
“Yeah,” Paul agreed, his forehead knitting into a frown as he held up an envelope. “I couldn’t sleep. This came in the mail and I’m a little freaked out.”
Plopping the toy onto one of the kitchen chairs, I reached for the envelope and read through the neatly folded paper inside. Irritation flared in my gut as I pulled out my phone and snapped a picture of the paper, immediately texting it to Drey. “Don’t worry about it, Tiger.” I tossed the paper and envelope carelessly onto the tabletop and crossed to take him in my arms. “Let’s find out what Drey thinks before we overreact, okay?”
I felt Paul nod against my chest, but he was still stiff in my arms. Stepping back, I tilted his chin up so he had to meet my eyes. “What?”
“It’s true, isn’t it?” he said sadly. “Since I let him knock me up, heisentitled to everything he says in the letter.”
“First of all,” I said firmly, “you didn’tletthat bastard do anything,” I huffed. Just thinking about what Paul had finally told me about the day he got pregnant made me see red. “He raped you and you arenotto blame.” I paused until Paul looked up from the floor in front of him. “Second, you are not property and neither is your child,” I said, trying to amp back the aggression in my voice. “So, no, he isn’t entitled to you or your baby.” I brushed my lips over his cheek. “I sent the letter to Drey and we need to find out how he wants us to proceed,” I said softly, “but demons from Hell will dance on my grave before anything happens to you or the bun in that sexy little oven, understand?”
“Okay.” Paul managed a small smile at what he probably assumed was a dramatic overstatement on my part. It wasn’t, but there was no point in borrowing trouble by pressing the issue when my husband seemed to be calming down.
“Now,” I redirected the conversation. “You are still due for a nap. Have you had lunch?”
Paul shook his head. “No. I was too upset to eat.”
I nudged him toward a chair and crossed to the fridge to pull out the ingredients for Paul’s current obsession, an assortment of cold cuts and sliced cheese with crackers piled around the plate and a pile of Kalamata olives in the center.
Paul was smiling and shaking his head when I set the plate in front of him and handed over the bottle of strawberry-kiwi water I’d opened. “Something amusing you?”
“Not really,” he said thoughtfully, choosing a cracker and piling it with alternating squares of meat and cheese until it resembled a tiny tower. “You make me smile when you do all this stuff for me.” He popped the cracker tower in his mouth and chewed happily, washing it down with a swallow of water before continuing. “You know I can take care of myself, right? You don’t have to wait on me.”
I stole one of his crackers and a square of cheddar, smirking at his fake-outraged look as I took a bite out of it. “Of course, I know you can feed yourself,” I agreed. “But I like doing it, so if it doesn’t bother you, why shouldn’t I?” It wasn’t the first time Paul had brought up the topic of not needing to be waited on. “Or am I wrong about your liking it? Am I smothering you?”
Paul never paused in the construction of the new cracker tower he was building as he snorted. “I know needy isn’t attractive, but you can smother me all you want unless you pull out an actual pillow. It makes me feel safe and wanted.” He bit down on his bottom lip. “It’s going to be hard for me to leave when I get my trust fund.”
Swallowing a flash of hope, I aimed for a casual tone. “Why don’t you stay, then?” When Paul’s eyes darted up to mine, I shrugged. “Unless there’s something you haven’t told me, you don’t really have a place to go, and you’re still going to need physical contact with an Alpha.” I couldn’t help the fact that my gaze heated up as I remembered having him naked and squirming under me that morning. Paul’s cheeks pinked and his breathing sped up, telling me he was right there with me. “You know how much I enjoy providing that touch,” I said unnecessarily, my voice deepening. “Wouldn’t it be easier to stay here until you don’t need me anymore?”
