Ourhome.
I think it’s about time we made it official.
In more ways than one.
Chapter thirty-five
Abigail
Thesmellhitsmebefore I even make it all the way downstairs after taking a long bath.
It’s warm. Buttery. Savory. And it immediately makes my stomach tighten with hunger.
“Lawson,” I call as I round the corner into the kitchen. “If that’s what I think it is, I might actually cry.”
He doesn’t turn from the stove, but I can see the corner of his mouth lift. “You cry all the time now anyway.”
“Shush,” I say immediately, sliding onto one of the spots at the island. “I’m pregnant with one of your giant babies. I’m allowed.”
He looks at me over his shoulder. “You’re so right. Sorry, Honey.”
Chuckling under his breath, he turns back to the stove.
The kitchen is warm and bright as Lawson moves easily between the stove and the counter. There’s a pot of creamy mashed potatoes steaming on the stove. Beside it is a pan of chicken-fried steak sizzlingin gravy, and tucked away on the counter are what look like a batch of double-chocolate chip muffins.
“You made chicken-fried steak,” I say reverently, resting my chin on my hand.
“You said you were craving it this morning.” He says it like it was the easiest thing in the world.
“And the muffins.”God dammit. I am going to cry.
“Well, those are kinda for me too. I also got you some orange soda. I don’t know where this random flavor combo came from, but your wish is my command.”
“You’re like a real-life superhero.”
Lawson snorts softly.
I watch him for a minute before my eyes drift toward the closed door of the home office.
They were all in there when I went upstairs to take a bath.
“What are the three of them doing in there?”
Lawson doesn’t look up from the pan he’s tending. “Just finishing up some… stuff for a project.”
I raise a brow. “Stufffor aproject?”
“Mhm.”
His shoulders go stiff, and I slide off the stool.
For everything Lawson Taylor is—strong, steady, capable, handsome, generous—he’s an absolutely terrible liar.
Walking over to him, I run my hand across his broad, muscular shoulders, feeling the tension sitting there like a brick. “What project, Lawson?”
“Nothin’ you need to worry about, Honey.”
“Lawson Taylor…”
