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I watch him walk away, but I stand resolute in my decision to push back on his overbearing tendencies.

I know Easton and I agreed on two years, but I really want to be out of his hair sooner than that. And when I am, I’ll be on my own again and won’t have him to lean on, so there’s no use getting used to it now, even though I am considering asking him for other things in the meantime.

***

“Ugh.” I lean against the wall next to the toilet, resting my head against it as I fight to catch my breath.

“Lennon?” Easton calls out from the front of the house, which means he just got home from work.

Damn it. The last thing I want him to see is the evidence of the salad I tried to eat today that the baby said absolutely not to.

I reach forward to flush the toilet just as Easton enters the bathroom.

Crossing the room in an instant, he kneels down in front of me, his gaze darting over my face, which I’m sure is covered in a sheen of sweat. “Shit. Are you okay?”

“Just morning sickness, Easton.”

“But it’s night?”

“Exactly, which is why some medical honcho needs to petition for that term to be changed.” I move to stand up and Easton helps me to my feet.

Slowly, I walk over to the counter to brush my teeth as he shadows my every move.

He tosses his hat on the counter before pushing a hand through his hair, blowing out a breath. “How often do you get sick?”

I spit into the sink. “Usually right when I wake up, but I actually hadn’t gotten sick in almost a week. Today, though, I tried to eat a salad and the baby basically told me to fuck right off with that.” Easton’s lips twitch. “That’s what I get for trying to feed it a vegetable— or anything remotely healthy.”

“I see.”

I finish brushing my teeth, rinse my mouth, and wipe my face with a towel, turning to face him. “How was work?”

He shakes his head. “One of my guys fucked up today. Set us back a couple of days and fucked with the costs of the job.”

“That’s not good.”

“Yeah… My boss was not happy when I called to tell him about it.”

“People make mistakes.”

“Yeah, well this one cost about twenty grand.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Twenty grand?”

“Yeah. Nearly shit myself when I heard.”

It hits me then that there’s a lot I don’t know about Easton’s job, but I can see him growing frustrated with this conversation, so I decide not to continue it.

I jut my thumb over my shoulder. “Well, I have some more work to do, so…”

“Yeah, and I need a shower, if you couldn’t tell.” He fans his hands down his body, and sure enough, he’s covered in dirt.

But God, it’s kind of sexy. Rugged. Dirty, but in an I-wouldn’t-mind-cleaning-you-up kind of way.

I always thought the idea of my future husband wearing a suit to go to work every day would be such a turn-on.

Turns out, I hadn’t considered a blue-collar option.

I’d gladly hop in the shower with him and help clean him up if that was an actual wifely duty.