Zoe snorts. “What other way could you possibly mean?”
Carina calmly lifts her mug off the counter. “Just so we’re clear, are you saying this happenedduringthe game? Or was this one of those weird fucking rituals you all do?”
Logan looks at her, mouth opening and closing. She stares back with full composure, awaiting his reply.
There’s a beat, then the room erupts. Charlie chokes on her mimosa, and Lulu cackles. Chase and Jake look at each other with wide grins, and even Tamara lets out a startled laugh.
And I stare at Carina, realizing I am so deeply, catastrophically fucked.
Because I’ve never loved anyone more.
Chapter twenty-two
Who’s the lucky man?
Carina
Ihaven’t stopped thinking about the way he looked holding Theo, or the way he looked at me while doing it.
It’s been a few weeks now, but the memory keeps catching me off guard. The weight of that toddler against Reid’s chest, the absurd gentleness of his giant hands, the quiet reverence in the way he’d swayed slightly without even realizing he was doing it.
And the moment Theo had accepted me after his suspicious toddler tilt, Reid’s laugh had been soft and warm, watching me like I was already part of it. Of him.
I’d barely waited for the front door to close after everyone left before dragging him upstairs and riding him until my thighstrembled and my voice was hoarse. He let me take what I needed and then gave me more.
Gentle hands. Messy kisses. A nap that melted into late afternoon sunlight. I’d woken up to the feel of his mouth trailing sleepy kisses down my spine, and I’m not sure I want to be woken any other way ever again.
Reid Hutchison has ruined me.
And not just sexually, although that’s a significant factor. It’s everything else, too.
Neither of us has said it out loud, but something shifted after that brunch. We’re still pretending this is relatively casual, both too scared to label what it is, I think.
But we see each other as much as possible, and he texts me every day—half the messages are about the baby, the other half some weird combination of protective and hilarious. Checking in to see what I need, sending me food deliveries when he knows I’m working late, or letting me know how big the baby is.
This week, it’s the size of a lime. Last week was a fig. He’s asked if I’ve had any new symptoms, has casually slipped in a question about iron supplements, and ended a recent conversation by asking whether I’d like him to check if my boobs are bigger.
I’m ninety percent sure he’s downloaded a pregnancy tracking app.
I’m one hundred percent sure he’s the only man who’s ever made me want to give up control, not because I don’t trust myself, but because I trust him.
And the worst part is, it doesn’t scare me. It makes me ache.
Because I’ve been doing life on my own for so long that it’s disorienting how good it feels to have someone else quietly keeping track. Like I matter enough to be watched. Remembered. Texted at midnight because he had a dream the baby had his nose and my glare, and he woke up sweating.
Which is probably why I’ve been procrastinating telling Heidi, because once I say it out loud, it becomes real in a whole new way. Not just a secret I can tuck into bed with me when I stay over at Reid’s. Not just ours.
It becomes something with rules and risk.
The sidewalk glints warm beneath my slides as I shift my weight from one foot to the other, sunglasses pushed up on my head, phone clutched in my palm. I’m about to cave and check the time again when I hear her voice.
“God, it’s ascorcheralready! I vote al fresco!”
Heidi barrels into view, her own sunglasses already on, hair up in an elaborate twist that somehow still looks cool despite the heat. She’s balancing two iced coffees and a pastry bag in one hand, and she’s grinning at me like nothing in the world could be wrong.
I manage a small smile, stepping forward to help. “You know ‘al fresco’ just means wasps, right?”
“Incorrect. It means vitamin D, hot women in slutty dresses to flirt with, and the best gossip,” she declares, thrusting a coffee into my hand. “And I will not be robbed of my sunshine serotonin.”
