Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74844 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74844 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
He’s not lying. He’s going to town on the plate, eating it in huge bites while I just watch him. “Eat, mi sol.” My sun.
“Alex…don’t call me that.”
“I’m only speaking the truth. You bring such light, Elliot. Eat.”
I swallow hard as emotion threatens to suffocate me. I reach for my fork and whisper, “Thank you.”
He winks, in such a confident matter that it leaves me breathless. “I told you I was going to have you catching feelings for me.”
I laugh at that, rolling my eyes. “It’s going to take more than switching plates with me.”
“Oh, I’m aware,” he says, squeezing my hand. “And I’m ready.”
Our eyes meet once more, and I let out a slow sigh before I take a bite of the insanely good mushroom risotto. After I’ve taken three bites, I find that Alex is watching with a satisfied grin on his face.
“Feeling better?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“And how is it?”
“So good.”
He nods, pleased with that, before we go back to eating. “So, have you been seeing anyone?”
I look up at him through my lashes. “Not that it matters, but no.”
“Didn’t want anyone but me?” I glance up to find him beaming at me, those caramel eyes flashing with playfulness.
Yes.
“Not at all. Just busy.”
Growing your child.
“Little liar,” he mutters, and I set him with a look.
“Delusional boy,” I throw back, and he looks almost feral.
“I love when you speak to me in my language. Gets me all hard,” he tells me quickly, his eyes heated.
“Good to know. It’s how I’ll bring you to your knees,” I say, my Spanish perfect from years of learning and speaking it. When we were younger, Louisa wanted all of us to be fluent in different languages. It wasn’t until I was almost sixteen that I learned it was because she was planning on getting us out of the country and away from the cult. Thankfully, Peepaw was able to take us in, and the rest is history. But for moments like this, I’m glad I’m multilingual.
Alex’s eyes burn for me as he tells me in English, “Oh mami, I’ll stay there if that’s what you want.”
Fucking hell, his words get me every time. Especially when he looks at me like he wants to devour me whole. This was a mistake. I can’t flirt with him.
But I love doing it.
Ugh.
He leans forward then, his eyes capturing mine. “Tell me something.”
“No, I won’t sleep with you.”
“Tonight,” he clarifies, and I give him a dry look that he ignores. “What happened to your stomach?”
My whole body freezes, and my heart goes still in my chest as I hold his gaze. “Sorry?”
“You’re wearing all these big clothes, your stomach is hard, and when you hugged me, you only let your chest touch me so I wouldn’t feel it. What’s going on?”
I bite into my cheek. “You noticed the hug thing?”
“Yeah,” he says softly. “When we hugged before, you’d press your whole body to mine. Flush. So I could feel every inch of your delectable body, and havoc would ensue.”
My mouth goes dry, and I suddenly feel like forming words will be too hard.
“Are you sick? Cancer?”
I shake my head, licking my lips. “I told you no.”
“Hernia?”
“No, not at all,” I say, looking away and feeling like the biggest asshole in the world. Why am I dragging this out? I just need to say it. Tell him, and be ready for the repercussions. This isn’t fair to him or me. More so him than me, but the faster I tell him, the quicker the flirting and the wanting me will stop. I’ve done him wrong, and I need to rectify that. He’ll be stuck with me for the next eighteen years, but I’d rather it be on good terms. I owe him that.
I meet his gaze, and his eyes are just so inviting, so kind, and they make me feel things I don’t deserve to feel. Yet, I see the curiosity. I press my lips together and swallow hard, willing myself not to be a coward.
“Are you pregnant?” Alex’s question catches me off guard, and my mouth parts in utter shock.
How…
I squeeze my hands together to the point that my knuckles are white. I don’t look away as his eyes beg for the truth.
“Yes,” I whisper as tears burn in my eyes.
His face is unchanging, his eyes darkening as he stares into mine. He doesn’t allow me to look away, not that I would. I owe him the eye contact. The truth. His voice is guttural as he asks, “Is it mine?”
A tear leaks out, but I don’t brush it away. I only stare into the eyes of my child’s father and whisper, “Yes.”
CHAPTER 12
Alex
When I was sixteen, I was in goal, kicking ass as usual, when a guy slap shot the shit out of the puck, and it somehow hit me in just the right spot that it bent the cage of my face mask and knocked me unconscious. When I woke, I didn’t know who I was, what I was doing, or even how I got on that sheet of ice. I was scared, pissed off, and thankful to be alive.