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“Be serious.”
“I am.” Snatching my hand away occurs out of spite. “I’m not giving up my job because of a fluke accident, Weston. That’s non-negotiable.”
“And I’m not losing my wife and child because you’re too stubborn or selfish or both.” He leans forcefully closer. “That’s non-negotiable, Brynley.”
“I didn’t know I was pregnant.”
“Now, you do.”
“No,” it’s my turn to lift a finger, “that’s still pending another test.”
Wes sarcastically cocks his head.
“Fine! I’m most likely pregnant!”
“And?”
“And I will refrain from falling to the best of my ability! Kind of like I already was!”
A simple lifting of his dark brows is all he presents.
“I will proceed with additional caution, Mr. Wayne.”
Hearing the nickname has him fighting a smirk.
“I promise.” Our fingers find their way back together. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep our mini caped crusader safe.”
For the first time since his arrival, joy successfully spreads itself through his stare. “We’re really gonna have a baby.”
“That’s what I’m told.” His excitement tries its best to trample my nervousness. “And you…seem…excited.”
“You don’t.”
My head thoughtlessly sways back and forth for a moment. “It’s not…the most…ideal timing.”
“Is that all?” Hurt struggles not to be heard in his tone. “Is that the only reason you’re not excited?”
“You’re concerned I’ve changed my mind about wanting kids.”
“Yes.”
“Well, I haven’t.” The firmness in my voice seems to melt his shifting demeanor. “I just…didn’t want one right now.” Another shrug bounces my sore shoulders. “And considering I got my job because the woman before me was pregnant, I can’t exactly pretend I’m not worried that I’m about to meet the same fate.”
“You won’t, little prey.” Wes’s proclamation precedes him planting a gentle kiss to the back of my hand. “I promise.”
Chapter 11
Brynley
You know I’m starting to fully understand the reason why juvenile sharks probably don’t mind being abandoned by their mother.
It beats the fuck out of constantly being smothered.
“You sure you don’t need anything?” Mom asks again for the fourth time since entering Wes’s comic book room in the estate where I thought I would be safe from the household’s suffocating ways. “Anything at all?” She lifts my chin up to meet her gaze. “How about a sandwich? You hungry? You’re probably hungry. You need to eat again? Have you been consuming enough calories? Hydrating? Do you need me to get you some more water?”
“Mom, I’m not an invalid. Just pregnant.”
Her hand falls back to her side on a scowl.
