Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
I raised my brow at him. “Yeah, it must’ve been really tough for you.”
Kip looked appropriately chastised, reaching for the box from the bakery. “I have a variety of Nora’s best pastries,” he said, opening the box.
My appetite suddenly took over my body, and I reached for the chocolate croissant, which was still soft and warm.
Kip produced a napkin for crumbs, which I took thankfully.
“You drove to Jupiter and back to get me croissants and coffee?” I clarified.
“Well, I got myself a coffee, too, so it wasn’t an entirely selfless act.” He lifted his cup.
“If this is you trying to ‘win me back,’ you gotta know it’s gonna take more than pastries and coffee,” I informed him, not giving up either of them.
Kip chuckled. I liked the sound of it. I hadn’t heard it in months, and it warmed my very bones. And other places.
“I’m aware that it’s gonna take much more than that. But you just agreed that I can win you back,” he said, tone dripping with triumph.
Fuck.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I snapped.
Kip smirked at me. “Yeah, you did. I’ve still got a chance.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
Though my voice had a considerable bite to it, something inside me felt alive, happy to be in a familiar rhythm, to see a Kip I recognized.
A nurse came in at that point to check my vitals and the baby’s heartbeat with a portable doppler. I recognized what it looked like because I’d stared at the product page for one every night in my first trimester, figuring out whether it would be a good thing or a bad thing to have the ability to find my baby’s heartbeat.
I’d decided against it.
I’d make myself crazy constantly trying to find the little fucker, and then I’d spiral into a deep depression if I couldn’t. I was already enough of a wreck.
As it was, I was a wreck when the nurse produced the little thing, my mouth suddenly dry and my limbs frozen.
The heartbeat that came from the little machine was reassuring and a welcome sound, but I hadn’t factored in Kip’s being there, nor had I expected him to have a reaction.
He went slack-jawed, and he leaned forward so his elbows were on the bed as he stared at my belly in awe. If I was ever going to try to convince myself that Kip didn’t care about the baby, I couldn’t, not after this moment right here.
It scared me. The boomerang from such coldness to such utter… astonishment and devotion.
I didn’t know what to do with that. All the maternal hormones coursing through my body made me soft and really tempted to forgive him and go home like a happy family.
Which we weren’t.
I needed to remember that.
So I retreated.
For the rest of the morning, I didn’t look directly at him, didn’t smile at him, and didn’t let his caring expression and over-the-top protectiveness penetrate. Instead, I focused on getting myself ready to get the fuck out of the hospital and back home.
They made me leave in a wheelchair, which didn’t really help with my whole ‘capable woman’ thing.
Then there was Kip helping me in and out of his truck like I was a fucking invalid. I wanted to swat him away, but the fucker’s truck was lifted, and I couldn’t wrench myself in there one-handed. The hospital didn’t give me any of the good drugs on account of the fetus inside me. Therefore, not only did my wrist throb but I felt like I’d been hit by a car.
Which I guessed I kind of had.
So, I needed Kip to help me into the truck, and out of the truck, and then into the house, where he situated me on the sofa with blankets. Fucking blankets. Again, I might’ve argued except my sofa and blankets were really fucking great right now.
“I’m going to make dinner,” he said after tucking me in like a burrito. “What do you want?”
I pursed my lips, not wanting to request anything more from the man. “I’ll order pizza,” I decided, searching my blanket for my phone.
“I’ll make pizza,” Kip decided.
I scowled up at him. “The pizza place will make pizza. With ranch.”
He did not scowl back. Instead, he had that soft look on his face, devotion tingled with amusement. It hurt. And it made me feel warm and fuzzy.
“I can make pizza. And ranch.”
I opened my mouth to argue with him, but Calliope interrupted. She’d arrived not long after we got home from the hospital, which was after I had urged Nora and Rowan to go home to their daughter and dog, who were being looked after by Rowan’s mom.
Calliope had been silent on her phone during the whole blanket fiasco, sipping from the glass of wine I’d urged her to have. It seemed she was also listening.
“Let him make the fucking pizza,” she said. “No one outside Naples makes pizza better than Kippers—or Deidre, to be exact, since he learned it from her.” I turned my glare her way, which she met with amusement. “I get that you’re trying to fight against being taken care of by a man,” she continued, guessing what lay behind my glare. “And I do support it. But you kind of have to be taken care of… a little bit.” She held her finger and thumb millimeters apart. “Because you’re pregnant, now injured, and you can’t cook for shit.”