Page 142 of The Trouble with Flings

“Loud and clear,” Mia confirms.

“I’m going to need all of you to mind your own business,” I say pleasantly.

They laugh and move on to another conversation, while I try to figure out why yet popped out of my mouth so easily. I wait for the panic to set in at the thought of marriage, but it doesn’t bite like it used to. I’m not sprouting porcupine spikes to ward it away, and I don’t have an immediate urge to flee the vicinity of the conversation.

The idea just sits there, like it’s waiting patiently for me to catch up.

I try to push those thoughts away and take a sip of water, looking around.

Across the restaurant, my mother and Margot are chatting up Seth’s fiancée, Ellie, and her father and his girlfriend. My parents and the Silvers hit it off right away, which was a relief. I was a little nervous about that, because they’re from such different worlds. Then again, so are Fitz and I.

I scan the restaurant for my Mr. Silver, and find him talking with our fathers, as Jared, Wells, and Seth head over to join them. I watch them fall into a conversation. There’s a lot of nodding going on. My father is at ease in a way I don’t see often in crowded spaces. He slides one hand into his pocket and says something to Alexander, who elbows him and leans in, turning his face with a mischievous grin as he says something for my father’s ears only, like they’ve known each other for years instead of hours. Jared, on the other hand, is as fidgety as always, shifting from one foot to the other, his gaze darting around the room.

“Do you think Jared is nervous, or just being Jared?” Jayla asks.

Mia and I share a knowing glance, and then she explains to the others, “Our brother once had a meltdown over parsley placement.”

“Really?” Keira asks.

“It’s true,” I confirm. “But he is a chef, so he has a love affair with all things plated.”

They laugh and start talking about how anxious they’d be if this were their event, but my attention is drawn back to Fitz. He stands out from all the other men, strikingly handsome in a navy suit and crisp white dress shirt, the collar open, his hair and scruff neatly manicured. As though he senses me watching him, those piercing dark eyes find mine the way they always do, like there’s a frequency only the two of us are tuned into.

Heat blooms in my chest as his gaze drifts slowly down the length of my forest-green dress, possessive and hungry and brazenly unconcerned with the fact that we’re surrounded by hundreds of people.

God. Mia was right. The way he looks at me should be illegal in public. I’m sure everyone can see how much he wants to peel my dress off with his teeth.

Just like he did after the guys left my apartment.

My cheeks heat with the memory of his hands and mouth on me, the dirty demands he doled out, and the way I obeyed with a hunger that matched his. My heart steps to the forefront, remembering the way he drew me a bath and joined me in my tiny tub, washing my body and hair like I was a princess. As if that’s not enough to make me all warm and squishy inside, my heart tops it off with the memory of the carefully planned nursery he built for our baby in a space where I couldn’t imagine fitting one.

He keeps showing up in ways I don’t ask for, in spaces I’ve convinced myself were too small for anyone else, and proving me wrong.

Like my life.

My heart.

A shiver runs through me as I think of all the ways he’s been chipping away at my walls, disarming my doubts, turning those bleak, empty spaces into cradles full of love and hope and possibilities.

And now here I am, toying with a future I swore I’d never want.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Fitz

The ultrasound room is so quiet, I can practically hear Jennifer’s heart thundering. She looks impossibly beautiful and incredibly nervous lying on the exam table as we wait for the technician to come into the room. She smooths a hand over her adorable baby bump, which seemed to appear overnight a few weeks ago. I know she has a love-hate relationship with her changing body, but she’s never looked more beautiful to me than she does right now, and it has less to do with her fuller breasts and softer curves and more to do with the way she’s embracing our baby, and us, and is fully coming into her own in a new and unexpected way.

I brush my thumb over her knuckles, and she exhales slowly, a small smile curving her lips. I love how my touch helps calm her, though her eyes remain trained on the ceiling. That’s how I know she’s stuck in her own head, working out her worries. I let her stay there for now, knowing she’ll come out when she’s ready.

I’ve spent months falling for her. Even before I found out she was pregnant, during our late-night texts, I fell harder with every conversation and treasured each of those special moments. But waiting to see our baby together for the first time feels like the biggest moment yet.

The last month has been a whirlwind of busy days and weekends I never wanted to end, feeling like life has changed on so many levels. Not just because of the pregnancy but because of what came after we finally told everyone.

I expected to feel relief at no longer keeping the baby a secret and grateful for the support of family and friends, but it’s more than that. It’s the way my mother looks at Jennifer like she’s already tucked her into her heart and my father randomly clapping me on the shoulder like I accomplished something heroic, or joined a secret club, simply by impregnating the woman I’m obsessed with. It’s Wells insisting he’s going to be the favorite uncle, while Grant argues that the title belongs to him because he built the nursery furniture, and it’s Bellamy filling shopping carts with baby clothes like she’s preparing for a royal heir. She did the same thing when Jules was pregnant, but somehow it feels different now that it’s for my child.

And…it’s Jennifer.

God, Jennifer.