Page 104 of Please Open Me
“You make it sound really easy,” I mumbled.
“That’s because itis. Not everything has to be war or a trick. Sometimes we can just be in love and do things that couples do.”
Lucian led me to the front door before bowing to put his boots on.
“You wait, I’ll help you put your shoes on, like I did with Rosie.” The words rushed out of him, and my mind sped to try to keep up.
“No, it’s okay, I’m not that far along.” I didn’t knowhowfar along I was. But I knew it wasn’t almost thirty weeks, like it had been when Luci and I got back together.
I tried to grab the leather sandals I’d slipped on in my rush to leave Hartwood, but Lucian was one step ahead. Without looking, he pulled them away, pinning both under one of his knees.
He wasn’t listening to me, and that wasn’t how Lucian was. Not with me.
“Lucian–” I practically groaned his name before reaching for the sandals once more, not caring if I knocked him on his ass.
“Shh. Let me.” He pushed my hand away and grabbed my ankle.
He held me so delicately I almost forgot the fact that he’d stolen the choice away. Almost. His thumb brushed over the round bone on the side of my ankle. His touch lingered just long enough to send another wave of unease up my spine, and I hated that I felt like this.
“The good thing is, your ankles aren’t swollen yet.” He fastened the buckle on my sandal and started with the other.
“Can you maybenottalk about things involving my pregnancy? It kind of seems like you’re obsessed.”
Lucian paused mid-buckle before looking up at me with lifted brows.
“Obsessed?” He said slowly, like he’d never heard that word in his life. “I’m not obsessed, I’m invested.”
He fastened my other sandal and put my foot down before running his hand over my stubbly shin. It was like heneededto touch me.
“You’ve been through a lot,” he explained, wrapping his arms around my legs.
Slowly, he pulled me in, resting his chin on my stomach as he looked up at me as if I were a goddess.
“It’s my job, as your husband, to make things easier for you. I don’t want you to even have to think if you don’t want to. For the next however many months, you’remine.” His fingers tightened on my thighs. “I’m going to wait on you hand and fucking foot until the baby’s here, and maybe after too, if you let me.”
My throat went tight. I laughed, because it was easier than screaming or asking what the fuck was wrong with him tonight.
“Lucian–”
He stood and offered me his hand again, this time with an air of patient confidence, like he knew I wouldn’t reject him.
“Come on, Masie,” he said, forcing my fingers between his. “Let me take care of you. That’s all I want.”
Any form of protest stuck in my throat, and once again, I chalked all of this up to me being dramatic.
Lucian was a caregiver. He loved to be needed, and to show his love by doing. He loved kids. He’d wanted a big family since we were teenagers. This was normal for him, and I was being a paranoid stick in the mud.
Together, Lucian and I stepped out into the night. I hadn’t realized it’d started misting until we stepped outside, and I wrapped my arms around myself for warmth. Without the need for words, Lucian removed his hoodie and slid it onto my shoulders.
It was warm and smelled like him, and something about this small comfort made me think everythingmightbe okay.
I tugged the hoodie tighter, burying my face in the collar like a teenager again.
“You know what I want?” I asked, my tone almost conspiratorial.
“What?”
“I want french fries, with the alarmingly yellow cheese.” My mouth watered at the thought. “And a Shirley Temple, with extra cherries.”
