Until then, it’s just us.
Me, baby…and Quinn.
It’s Sunday night, and tomorrow is my appointment. Quinn is going with me, and he’s picking me up at two. After the appointment, he’ll drop me back off at my place before we drive separately to my parents’ house for dinner. It’s not completely unusual to get together on a Monday night, but typically there’s a reason, like a birthday. Anyway, that’s the perfect time to share our news.
Everyone will be there.
Including Quinn.
My laundry is caught up, and my fridge is stocked for the week. I’m just settling in to watch the Reds take on the Cubs when there’s a knock at the door. My heart skips a beat as I get off the couch and head in that direction.
Quinn’s made plenty of appearances at my place, every morning when he’s finishing a run and several evenings before it’s time to head off to bed. We haven’t kissed again since the night we snuggled on the couch to watch a movie and I fell asleep, but we’ve come close. Lots of touches and long looks. Heloves to touch my belly, always asking permission first, and as much as I try to ignore it, his hands leave a trail of fire in their wake. It’s as if he’s woken some dormant part of me, and now I want him to touch me all the time.
Every moment of every day.
I open the door and give him a tight smile.
“Headache?” he asks, stepping inside with shopping bags.
“No,” I counter, closing the door behind him.
He flashes a knowing grin. “You’ve been a little cranky.”
My eyes narrow as I follow him to my kitchen. “I’m not cranky.”
“Is this you not being cranky?” he asks, smiling from ear to ear.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I narrow my eyes in response. I usually always have something to say, but it turns out, he’s actually right. I am cranky.
Needing to change the subject, I turn my attention to the bags. “What’s all this?”
He smiles that crooked smile I’ve become so damn fond of and reaches into the bag. “Iced coffee.”
My heart sings and then crashes to the ground. “I gave up iced coffee,” I state unnecessarily. I know Quinn is aware.
He gives me a slow grin that makes his dark eyes sparkle. “I have a special iced coffee.” He starts pulling ingredients out of the bag.
I lean over and peek around his shoulder. “Tell me more.”
“Well, I brewed some decaf coffee this morning, and it’s been chilling in the refrigerator. I bought some oat milk, sugar-free caramel sauce, and maple-flavored syrup.”
“Syrup?” I ask, wondering why he pulled out Mrs. Butterworth’s.
“Well, besides having great flavor, it’s more of a natural sweetener.”
I raise an eyebrow in confusion. “If you say so.”
“Go sit,” he insists, putting the second bag in the freezer without showing me the contents.
“Can I stay and watch?” I lean against the counter, observing him get to work.
“Suit yourself.”
He grabs one of my tall glasses and retrieves ice, filling it half full. Then, he pours in some oat milk, caramel sauce, and a bit of the syrup. Then, he adds cold coffee, filling the glass almost to the top. He pulls a spoon from the drawer and mixes it all together.
“Here, take a sip. Tell me if I need to add more of something,” he suggests, handing me the glass.
I take a small sip, surprised when the deliciousness hits my tongue. “Holy crap.”
