He’s looking at me, amused. “You good?”
I nod. “You were right. My feet did hurt.”
“I’ll rub them after.” He says it so nonchalantly, as if it’s nothing to him, while I want to burst with happiness. It’s the little things that really start to weigh heavier to me.
I can’t help but watch him take the first bite. He chews it slowly, looking back at me, slowing even more.
“Don’t be a jerk,” I chastise.
He grins, setting his fork down. “It’s good. Thank you. I really appreciate that you did this for me.”
My heart goes into that little pitter patter it does sometimes when he’s sweet. I clear my throat. “I didn’t really know what else you might want, but I figured I’d try my hand at a home-cooked meal.”
“Can I expect meals from you often?”
I scowl. “Oh god, no. It was horrible, but you’re—” I almost say worth it, but that’s too sappy. And no way near where we’re at. Hell, I have no idea how he feels. I’m not even sure how I feel half of the time. I’m convinced the baby growing inside me is hypnotizing me to care about Henry more than I should, but that’s an insane thought, so I ignore it.
“How’d you know it was my birthday?” he asks, clearly ignoring what I almost said.
I cast my glance down, wondering if I should tell him the truth or not. I don’t want to upset him, but it’s not like I have a way to lieabout it either. “Uhm. Your father—every year he’d pour a shot and make us toast that you’d find success.”
Henry’s fork drops to the plate. “What?”
I look up quickly, seeing his face turn a little pale. “I’m sorry to bring that up, but it just came up when I would send my siblings flowers and some gifts. I asked him once if he wanted me to order one for you too. He said you wouldn’t want to be disturbed.”
He looks away from me, something sad in his eyes as he stares out the window, and I hope I haven’t ruined his birthday. My fingers are tight around the fork as I push around the food and wait for him to speak again.
“Did my father speak about me a lot?” His voice is a little hoarse.
I shrug. “Not to me, Henry. I know that he had a security team that followed you, and that he believed you would come back to him one day. I think his pride just made it impossible for him to reach out.”
He nods, taking a drink of his wine and then narrows his stare at me. “You could be lying. I have no way of proving that.”
Rolling my eyes, I take another bite. “I made you dinner and cake. You think I’d bother bringing up your father just to lie?”
Henry sighs. “No, no I don’t. And I don’t want to think about him anymore. Someone cooking me a meal that wasn’t paid to do it has to be one of the nicest things I’ve ever gotten.”
A blush heats my cheeks. “It’s no big deal.”
He reaches over, dragging my chair closer to him as he studies my face for a moment. “It is. We both know it is.”
It’s a struggle to breathe for a moment as we stare at each other. We’ve both grown up in households that never had to worry about a thing, but at least I had my mom to show me an ounce of affection when she had the time to. I break the locked gaze first, looking toward the kitchen.
“I bet the cake is a disaster, so don’t thank me yet.”
He chuckles as he pushes out of the chair then leans over me, bracing his weight on the table. Butterflies flutter in his stomach as he kisses my forehead. “Thank you,” he whispers, then walks to the kitchen to grab a piece. I brush my fingers over the spot he kissed, then drop my hand to my round belly. All I want for this baby is a family that loves each other, but I try not to cling to the hope growing in my chest.
Chapter 8
Henry
Constant buzzing pullsme out of sleep, and I groan, shifting Natalie off of me. The last few days she’s refused to let me leave her bed. Not sure if it’s a pregnancy thing, but every time I’ve tried, her eyes go wide and start to water while her lip quivers. It’s the cutest, most heartbreaking thing I’ve ever seen. If she ever teaches it to our child, I’m fucking done for.
I grab my phone, the grogginess from sleep clearing immediately when I see it’s the front security. “What’s wrong?”
The guard clears his throat, and I hear muffled yelling from the other end before he says, “There’s a couple men here demanding to see you. One of them said their name is Davie.”
My stomach sinks a little, and I have half a mind to ask them to handle it, but realize the club will never stop unless they hear it from me.
