Or should I say,ourpenthouse. After spending every night here for a month after Daniel’s attack, Zayn, with my permission, had my stuff moved from my apartment, which is now on the market. Not that I brought much with me beside my clothes and shoes, a small amount of personal items and my Harry Potter books, which now take pride of place on Zayn’s custom-made bookcase that doesn’t look like it was designed to actually display books at all.
Not that Zayn cares. He’s the one who put them there.
I crack open the bottle of passata sauce, then tap the pocket of my silk robe for about the fiftieth time, feeling for the little stick that I put in there earlier.
Just the thought of those two little lines sends my head into a spin. My stomach fizzles and I envision little bubblesfloating, popping and bursting around the teeny tiny miracle I now know is growing inside there.
I still can’t believe it. As I pour the sauce into the pan and add a little more salt, I think back to this morning and the pure shock that took over me in the bathroom when I saw those two lines appear. I didn’t think I was capable of getting pregnant. I only took the test because my period is two weeks late, and my breasts felt extra sensitive during Zayn’s thorough assault of them this morning with his tongue. A blush spreads across my cheeks at the mere memory of it.
Daniel and I tried to conceive for over a yearwith no luck. Although, looking back now, I feel like luck definitely was on my side then, just as it is now.
I place the heavy lid of the saucepan on carefully and set the stove to low as nerves send a slight tremble through my hands.
How is Zayn going to react to my news?
We discussed children a few months ago, one morning after Zayn had made love to me so many times anyone would think he was going for a world record.
“We aren’t on any kind of protection,” he’d said dryly after rolling off me, both of us completely spent. “Are you sure we don’t need to be?”
“I told you,” I’d replied, unable to keep the sadness from my voice. “I’m infertile.”
He propped himself up on a forearm and drew me closer with his other arm. “Hey,” he said gently, picking up on my change of mood instantly. “This isn’t a deal breaker for me. If we are lucky enough to have a baby, then I’ll be thrilled. If not, and we spent the rest of our lives just us two, I’ll also be thrilled.” He’d kissed me then between my breasts before starting a slow trail upmy neck. “I’m more than happy to have you all to myself.”
“I want to have our baby, Zayn.” In fact, my heart yearned painfully with want for a child of our own. “I just don’t think I can.”
“We’ll cross that bridge together if and when you’re ready.” His lips had met mine, and he gave me a slow, sweet kiss. “I love you no matter what, always and forever.”
With an ungodly amount of energy, he then proceeded to show me how much with his tongue between my legs.
And every single day since then, he’d continued to show me in a million different ways. He finally kept the promise he made to me all those years ago.
He always comes home to me.
My thoughts are interruptedby the sound of the front door opening. I jump back, nerves causing my stomach to flip-flop wildly and in all directions. Taking a deep breath, I run my hand over the black lace corset and matching boy shorts that are visible between the open folds of my robe before checking one last time that there’s still two lines on the stick.
I just can’t believe it.
I feel Zayn’s presence at my back before his hands wrap around my hips and glide forward to cradle my stomach, almost like he knows a little part of him is growing inside there.
He spent the day at Hope House today, providing legal council to one of the new residents. Monday’s are the only day I’mnotat Hope House, now that Sam has employed me part-time as his chief of marketing and fundraising.
“Hello, my love. Coming home to you is the best part of my day,” Zayn drawls into the crook of my neck, sending shockwaves down my spine. I lift my hands over my head and run my fingers blindly through his thick, silky strands.
“Coming for you is the best part of mine.”
He chuckles into the tender spot behind my ear. “Let’s combine the two, shall we?”
I turn so I’m facing Zayn, pinned now between his hips and the island bench. My palms find his chest and I glide them down the smooth expanse of his wool suit jacket. Vanilla and sandalwood envelopes me and I instinctively breathe in my favourite scent.
“I’d love to, but I’m a bit busy at the moment.”
“So I see,” his eyes flash mischievously, but he takes a small step back and runs his hand down the black lapel of his jacket. “Smells incredible in here. I thought we were going out for dinner with Anna and Percy?”
Weweresupposed to be meeting the happy couple at a new French restaurant downtown, but I called Anna and feigned sickness when my plans changed abruptly this morning.
“I figured we could stay in instead,” I say, looking up at him through my eyelashes. “Just wanted to spend time with you alone.”
He flashes me a smile, showing off all his perfect white teeth. “No complaints from me. I think I would die if you had to go put clothes on right now,” he says, his gaze raking down my body hungrily. My skin tingles, heat pooling in my stomach as my hands twitch with the urge to reach out and touch him.
