Page 103 of The Trouble with Flings

She pushes up on her elbows, watching me.

“Hey, Little Bean. I missed you, too.” I kiss her belly. “I know you’ve had a long day, going into work with your mama so she could catch up on a few things and taking the ferry here. All of that makes your mom hungry, but your daddy is a good planner. I got all of your mama’s favorite foods, so hold tight. Sustenance is on its way.”

Jennifer looks at me like I just handed her the stars, and man, do I want to.

“Let’s go, wild girl. Orgasms and a house tour will have to wait.”

I help her to her feet, kiss her one more time, because I will never get enough, and then we head into the kitchen.

“Sit your pretty little ass right here.” I pull out one of the stools at the counter, and as she settles onto it, I pull the plastic wrap off the charcuterie board that I put together before I left for the ferry and slide the board in front of her. “You can nibble on those while I make us shrimp alfredo.”

Her eyes widen with delight at the assortment of cheeses, fruits, dates, cornichons, crackers, and a handful of dark chocolate almonds because I noticed her reaching for a dish of them at her parents’ house. “I think I love you,” she says, reaching for a cornichon.

I grin, wanting to hold those words close and knowing they were said off-the-cuff.

One day…

“Wait until you see dessert.” I open the freezer and take out the ice cream cake I had made for her. “It’s rocky road and red velvet.”

Her jaw drops. “How did you know?”

“Your father made a comment about you running off with one when you were seven. I got Cap’n Crunch, too. Although I thought we’d hit Keira’s bakery for breakfast tomorrow.”

She shakes her head. “You thought of everything. You’re pretty amazing. You know that?”

“Right back at you, wild girl.”

She watches me as I set ingredients for dinner on the counter and says, “Do you ply all your ladies with delicious food?”

I meet her playful gaze and say, “Only the pregnant ones.”

“That’s convenient. I plan on milking this for the next several months,” she says, rewarding me with the sass and smirk that got me into the best trouble of my life.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Jennifer

Fitz sits beside me at the island as we finish dinner, our shoulders touching as he swirls the last of the iced tea in his glass. His house is bright and airy, the kitchen spacious without feeling too big. It already feels less like somewhere unfamiliar and more like it’s pulling me in. I feel at home here in a way I wasn’t prepared for.

The last few weeks have been a whirlwind of family members checking on me, reassuring me that they’ll be here for me every step of the way. I think that’s taken some of the pressure off, making it easier for me to let my guard down.

Fitz has made it easier, too.

At least until this afternoon. I was a bundle of nerves all day, overthinking every little thing, worried that being here might be too much for me, or having me here might be too much for him. But he’s become such a calming, happy force in my life, the minute I saw him waiting by the ferry, those caring eyes locked on me, all I wanted was to be in his arms.

And once I was there, all those worries fell away.

I finish my pasta and sit back, stuffed to the gills. “That was delicious. Thank you for cooking.”

“I’m glad you liked it.”

I stand up to take our plates to the sink, but he snags them before I can. “Fitz, you cooked. I get to do the dishes.”

“You’ve had a long day. I’ve got it,” he says casually, setting the plates in the sink.

“You had a long day, too, and you don’t need to spoil me.” I carry our glasses over. “I want to help. Where do you keep your Tupperware?”

“I happen to like spoiling you, but I know better than to argue.” He leans in and kisses me. “It’s in the cabinet by the stove.”