Donovan chuckled. “A vanity.”
“Yeah, that with a lighted mirror and fancy chair. Maybe a chandelier in the center of the room and backlights in the shelving along the wall and a secondary door that connects to the bedroom.” I could see it as clear as day, just wasn’t familiar with some of the lingo. “I’ll have a better idea of just how many clothes and shoes Ronan actually has once we get him moved in.”
“This will be one gorgeous room. How about I draw it up and email it over for you to review. Let me know if there are any changes and we’ll go from there.”
“Perfect. Now for the other. You’ve done a couple of these lately so I’m sure you know more of what it needs than I do.” Across the hall we entered a, thankfully empty, room. Still had a couple more boxes to get out of the dressing room, but I’d take care of that in a few. “And this one is the nursery. Like I said, we’ve got twins coming. Gender neutral like you suggested would be great.” I envisioned a mural that spanned the walls. Beautiful outdoor scenery, dragons in flight—the whole works. Now to see if Donovan and I shared the same muse.
“Wait a second, something just dawned on me.” I feared what Donovan was about to say. “You’re not telling me that Ronan, the sassy twink that works at the diner, is your mate?”
“Yup, one and the same.”
“Gotta say, I’m not gonna miss being told to go get my own ketchup.”
Jezz, that had me laughing. “Well, I’ve worn a few drinks myself, courtesy of his hands. Not sure what his pregnancy will bring, but I’m hoping somewhere along the line he quits throwing shit at us.”
“Ha-ha, might be wishful thinking, but if any man is up for the task, it’s you, Odem.”
That I was. Sassy might not be his kink, but it sure as hell was mine.
Donovan took a few measurements. The work didn’t require walls to be moved so nothing structural, nor permit wise. I was beyond excited to start shopping, and the chance that I’d be the one to build the nest was high, given that Ronan hadn’t a clue what that even was.
“Alright, I’m out of here. I’ll have something to you in about a week.” Donovan shook my hand before he left. Then I headed to the kitchen to wine and dine my mate with some fine cooking courtesy ofmoi.
Chapter Four
Ronan
Waking in a cozy, comfortable bed that I could fully sprawl out in was an extremely pleasant way to rouse from my nap. Seeing Odem peering at me from the doorway, not so much.
“Your lunch is ready,” he declared.
My loudly growling stomach was enough to prompt me into getting up and following him down the hall.
“You can cook, right?” I asked. “Because it would suck to spend the rest of the day curled in a ball suffering from food poisoning.”
“I can cook,” he replied, voice flat and tinged with irritation.
Oh well. I hated getting sick.
On the table was more food that I usually consumed in an entire day, hell, two days, if I was being honest with myself.
“You cannot honestly expect me to eat all of that!” I snapped, eyes sweeping over the steak, oysters, rice and steamed broccoliwith some kind of sauce ladled over it. “Are you trying to make me fat? I’m going to get big enough as it is, carrying your eggs, if your size is any indication. I don’t need you kickstarting it now.”
“I’m just trying to get you fed,” he said as he pulled out the chair for me.
I eyed it and him before sitting down and letting him push it forward, a bit roughly if you asked me.
“What are you doing?” I asked when he pulled out the chair across from me.
“Joining you.”
“Yeah, no. I do not feel like looking at you while I eat and I certainly don’t want to talk to you, either. Why don’t you go find some boxes, since you were in such a big hurry to get me moved in here. I’d rather have all my things with me if I’m going to be stuck with you.”
“As you wish,” Odem said, removing his plates from the table and shoving them in the fridge.
At least he left me to eat in peace.
I was shocked to find that the steak was beautifully seasoned, tender and a perfect medium rare in the center, and the oysters, oh my, they were succulent, covered in cheese and spinach. I tried to savor every bite, but before I knew it, I’d wolfed down everything, even the broccoli and rice, and washed it down with lemonade that did not taste like it had come out of a bottle. Blinking, I stared down at the empty plate, then my stomach, still flat, though I knew it wouldn’t be for long. I’d seen enough pregnant people come waddling into the diner, looking larger on every visit, to know that my waistline was fucked.
