“You see?” He lifted me in the air. “I’m always safe.”
And then he brought me down, crashing his lips to mine in a way that sent me reeling. I almost cringed, hearing cameras go off as we kissed, but I looked at it as a step up that I wasn’t in a towel this time.
He set me down, wrapping his arms around me.
“Eh”—I shrugged my shoulders—“I’m not so worried about your safety anymore,” I lied.
He raised his eyebrows. “No?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Just that you win.”
I leaned in, threading my fingers through the back of his hair and inhaling the scent of his body wash.
“And I wanted you in a good mood,” I told him. “I can’t give you happy news on an unhappy day.”
He cocked his head, looking at me, confused.
“And the prize money will help,” I continued, “since you’re the only working member in the household, and I’m about to cost you a lot of money,” I teased.
He shot me a cocky grin. “And why’s that?”
And when I leaned in to tell him why I needed him safe, why no obstacle could keep me from being happy right now, I felt his breath give way and his chest cave.
And tears immediately sprang to my eyes when he knelt down in front of everyone—cameras flashing in the background and gasps from our friends going off around us—and kissed my stomach, saying hello to his child.
Epilogue
Tate
Seven Years Later
Fanning myself with the copy of Newsweek, I grunted as I bent down to pick up Dylan’s shoes off the carpet.
The July heat had me so aggravated that I was tempted to staple her shoelaces to the floor if she kept dumping her belongings everywhere.
Jared was next to no help when it came to building our daughter’s sense of responsibility. Yeah, she was only six years old, but we didn’t want her spoiled, did we? I constantly had to remind him that she’d be a teenager someday, and then he’d be sorry.
But Dylan Trent was a daddy’s girl, and heaven help him when she started wanting boyfriends and late curfews instead of candy and toys.
“Why’s it so cold in here?” I heard Madoc bellow from down the hall.
I shook my head and tossed my daughter’s shoes on top of the hamper in our private bathroom, shutting off the light as I left. “It’s hot as hell,” I grumbled under my breath so he couldn’t hear.
I took a long look around the room, finally satisfied that it was clean and the laundry was put away. I knew Madoc and Fallon didn’t care about messes, but I did when I was staying in someone else’s house.
I pulled Jared’s long-sleeved blue-and-white pinstripe dress shirt away from my chest and continued fanning cool air down through the opening at the neck as I sat down on the edge of our bed. His mom had bought him a bunch of stylish Brooks Brothers dress shirts for his business trips, but he’d wear only the black or white ones. The blue-and pink-striped ones were mine, and they, along with my cotton pajama shorts, were my uniform these days.
Madoc pulled up outside my bedroom door, scowling at me with his hands on his hips.
“It’s cold in here,” he accused, eyeing me as the culprit, since I was the one burning up these days and keeping his house at subzero temperatures.
I let out a fake sympathetic sigh as I continued fanning myself. “Don’t make your problems my problems, man,” I replied sarcastically.
He’d just gotten back from his office in Chicago and was still dressed in his black pinstripe suit pants and white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His silver tie hung loose around his neck, which always looked like it had been yanked to near death by the time he got home every day.
Madoc loved his job, but it was also hard on him. Going against the grain, he’d decided to work in the public sector, putting away the criminals his father worked to keep free. You would think it would be hard on their relationship, but actually, both Caruthers men thrived on the “game,” as they called it. I think going head-to-head in the courtroom or conference room brought them closer together.
He rolled his eyes at me and then shot me a snarky little look as his eyes raked up and down my body. “Does Jared tell you how hot you are even though you’re overweight?”
I straightened. “I’m not overweight. I’m pregnant.”
“Nice try.” He sneered. “But you only have one kid in there.”
I flung the magazine at him just as he ducked back into the hall.
Splaying my hand across my stomach, I huffed a breath. Jerk.
Being a doctor, I knew what an acceptable weight gain was during pregnancy, and I was in fantastic shape, thank you very much.
Madoc shot his head around the corner again. “Jared’s on video chat, by the way,” he chirped. And then he was gone.
I smiled, loving the sound of those words. I put my arm behind me to push myself up off the bed.
Being nearly nine months pregnant with my second child, I agreed with Jared that I shouldn’t be at our house—the house I grew up in—alone with Dylan. Since Fallon was taking a year off from her work at an architectural firm in the city to nurture some independent projects she wanted to explore, she was the perfect babysitter if I “decided” to go into labor ahead of schedule. With Jared away for several days, he didn’t want to take any chances.
I waddled down the stairs, the weight in my stomach making my legs and back ache. I once again vowed to myself that this was the last time I was going to be pregnant.
I’d made the same promise to myself after Dylan, but Jared and I knew how lonely being an only child could be, so we decided to have another. Of course, he’d had his brother, Jax, but that wasn’t until later.