“Please tell me that’s not a euphemism for something.” I groaned. “Get the fuck out of here. I don’t need to know that shit.”
“Wait, wait, wait, I was talking about an actual foot rub, but you’re saying . . . we can still have sex?” He was so pale he looked like the last remaining victim in a horror movie.
“Of course.” Was he being serious? “You own more biology books than I do. How do you not know this?”
“Obviously I know that. And we did at first, but—” His hands flew to his hips. “She’s been so tired these past few months, I’d be the world’s most selfish arsehole to ask the pharmacist, ‘Hey, can I still fuck my wife?’ while picking up her prescription for excessive morning sickness. She wants to but it seems safer for both of them to just not—”
Bloody hell. “Mal, I say this not as your brother, but as a doctor. Get the fuck home.” Heightened sex drive was common for some women late into pregnancy, and if April— I broke off the thought with a laugh. “No wonder she’s so pissed off.”
His eyes bulged, the gravity of his mistake dawning on him. I shook my head and pointed to the door. “Go. I can handle the rest of the delivery.”
It was for the best, I thought, watching him race out the door. The later I got home, the less alone time I’d have with Isla.
I pulled out my phone, already seeing another text from her, even though I hadn’t replied to the last.
Isla: Thoughts on apple pie?
Four innocuous words and I was grinning. That’s literally all it took.
Pull yourself together.I replied:Classic. Delicious.
Isla: Exactly, classically boring.
Alistair: Blueberry?
Isla: Doesn’t scream WOW. Annabelle will probably make something with gold leaf, then use the prize money to redo my kitchen.
Alistair: Screw Annabelle.
Isla: Not you too.
I laughed out loud as I typed,Not fucking funny, Lang.
Isla: A little bit funny.
Isla: My place at 6pm?
I didn’t even hesitate.I’ll be there.
19
Alistair
“Do you actually know how to bake?” A few hours later we stood in Isla’s kitchen.
I scratched my jaw, taking in the dizzying array of ingredients spread out on the counter. Apples, peaches, blueberries, lemons. Sacks of sugar and flour. How had she afforded all of this? Why hadn’t I offered to pay? “Do those box cakes count?”
I’d attempted to make Juniper a birthday cake the first year of our relationship. Between giggles, we’d managed to choke down two mouthfuls of the undercooked monstrosity, before I’d vowed to order from a bakery from there on out.
“Mummy says box cakes are for lazy people,” Teddy interjected. She was lying on the living-room rug, putting together a different Lego set I’d dug out before coming over. It was a little harder than the dragon we’d built together, but she was quickly getting the hang of it.
“Teddy!” Isla gasped.
“But it’s true,” Teddy replied. “You did say that.”
Isla pinched the bridge of her nose. “Even if I did say that—”
“You did.”
