Page 47 of Bound Hearts

She gives me an adoring smile. “Well,” she sighs.

“Plenty of space for the baby. A yard, too.” My words sound like I’m trying to sell her on the idea, but even I can hear the lack of conviction.

“I get it. I do. It’s not that I’m overwhelmed by my future husband randomly showing me a mansion after work. It’s more… it isn’t him.” She’s cracking into me, and with every little nudge, I feel relief. “This isn’t you, Foster.” She walks closer to me, stalling by the opposite pane of the entrance, leaning her shoulder against it and crossing her arms. She gives me a knowing look.

“How so?”

Her eyes lock with mine. “You’re the opposite of your family. You love modern penthouses and want to create your own path away from family connections, yet here we are. I think your intention is true, but there is no sense in making yourself unhappy. Besides, maybe the baby, when they’re older, wants a dog or a tortoise; those pets have completely different space needs,” she jokes.

I crack a laugh and let out a long breath, letting her walk to me and take my hands in hers. “You’re right,” I concede.

There’s no point pretending to be someone I'm not when I’m around Sutton; she sees right through my act. When I'm with her, I can relax. I sit back, laugh at her jokes, and just be myself. It’s a gift when you’re able to live in your own skin around someone. There are no pretentious expectations, only comfortable honesty.

“I thought I would give you an option. Maybe a house in the suburbs is what you wanted. Raising a child in the city isn’t for everyone.”

Her smile and the way her eyes play with mine are almost flirty. “Admirable. But I’m happy at your place, and it’s fine for a baby,” she assures me.

I give her a sheepish grin and open my arms to her. “Points for effort?”

“Many.”

“It never crosses your mind to move back to Everhope once you have kids?” I’m curious, we haven’t spoken much about it.

She shakes her head. “Not really. Nor have I thought about what I would do if I were accidentally pregnant. But in all of this craziness, I don’t want to add a house move into the equation, nor do you.”

“Reading through me again?”

“It’s a talent.” She ambles into my open arms, wrapping her own around my middle, and the side of her face settles against my chest. “We’re fine. I promise,” she whispers.

“We are, Mrs. Roth.”

Her head retreats back slightly, and her finger hooks into my shirt while her lip is caught between her teeth. “Your name,” she laments. “I guess I will be taking it if we marry.”

Truthfully, I’m definitely traditional on that, and it’s pure possessiveness to show she belongs to me. “Well, yeah. The baby will have my name, too.”

“I agree. In the office for me, no. My maiden name stays. Professional and all.” I peer down to give her an unimpressed look. “For now?” Her voice is uneven. “Outside of the office, then my new legal name.”

My hands crawl over her shoulders to pull her tightly to me. “We’ll need to work on making you a good girl.”

I tease her, but fuck, it’s true.

Visiting homes in pristine condition with high property taxes isn’t for us. That’s clear. Doesn’t mean we can escape entering another.

Sutton looks around in awe as we walk through the front hallway of my father’s home, the place where I grew up. It’s up on the Gold Coast of the city, historic, worth a lot of money, but it’s invaluable, as it houses more valuable memories.

I could only avoid his calls for so long, and when I finally told him I had someone for him to meet, he made it impossible to decline an invitation to visit. The craziest thing is that even though I reminded him to leave all family baby demands out of the discussion, he genuinely meant it when he agreed. He sounded excited that I’ve met someone and more in a father wants to see his son happy kind of way.

Managing to stave off a suggestion of brunch or dinner, we settled on a weekend afternoon visit that should involve only a drink or two and maybe a few snacks.

I let us in because I still have a key. A gesture my dad was insistent on, as he always reminds me that it is the family home. Sutton touches my arm to stop me, her smile wide. It’s been two weeks since the ultrasound, and every day she grows more beautiful and comfortable with the news of the baby. “These are old photos.”

I eye the black-and-white photo, nearly a hundred years old. I snort a laugh. “That would be ancestors whom I’m sure my father will explain when his spiel of history begins.”

“Okay, and this one?” She steps forward to a colored one, me as my younger self, with my dad. We’re in the backyard, and he’s kneeling down to show me a model plane.

It hits a soft spot, and I smile warmly to myself. “We used to make everything, planes, cars. We never built a train set but put them together. I was probably eight there. We wanted to see if the plane would fly.”

“You’re adorable,” she gushes. She steps closer to me, places her hand on my shoulder, and stands up on her toes to whisper in my ear. “Adorable genes. Promising for the baby.”