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A son or a stepson slash stepbrother. We could have that. With her.
Fuck, I want that.
I want a ton of those.
We’ll have them. A million kids.
Soon. Soon, soon, soon.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Amara
Carter thinks I’m pregnant.
He’s driving me to work, and I’ve already caught him checking out my stomach a handful of times. With a grin stretched on his handsome face.
He wouldn’t see me swelling beneath my neon-green maxi dress.
It’s too early. And anyway, I’m not pregnant. I have cramps. I’m about to get my period any day now.
I don’t tell him that.
My sweet man.
My deceiving man.
Hiding secrets goes both ways.
I scrunch my nose at that. My resentment doesn’t sound right in my head. It comes off as ungrateful.
They’ve just done this huge thing for me. Claiming my shop and the whole building from my parents. Every tile. Every window. They’re mine.
Thanks to them.
A million more flowers sold wouldn’t have afforded that.
They love me. I love them.
There’s no place for pettiness between us.
Besides, they’ll spit it out soon enough. Once I prove to them I’m a badass who can tackle everything. Who can stomach blood, guts, and gore.
Actions speak louder than words.
I’ll go through with my plan today. After that, there will be no more secrets between us.
I’ll threaten to cut their balls in their sleep if they even think about hiding something from me ever again.
“Carter.”
We’re five minutes from Carnations, sitting in traffic. His eyes are trained on my belly. Again.
Cradling his jaw in my palm, I whisper, “You’re wrong.”
His brows scrunch, and he lifts his gaze to mine. “When have I ever been wrong?”
“Never.” I sneak a smirk his way. “This time, though, you are.”
