Page 57 of Please Open Me
“It’s about time you woke up,” Cameron drawled.
It wasn’t wise for the prime suspect of a crime to return to the scene, yet here he was, judging me for sleeping in whileheslipped on a promise.
“I thought you were supposed to be eating better,” I snapped, pointing at the pan.
Cameron’s brow creased as he raised his hands in a placating gesture.
“I am. I had a spinach omelet and wheat toast for breakfast, and Mason made salads for lunch.”
“Then explainthis,”I said, holding up the pan like it was a murder weapon.
For some stupid reason, Cameron’s facelit up.His eyes bounced to Mason, then back to the pan before he shrugged.
“Mae asked me to make something chocolatey. I’m just glad she’s eatin’.”
I choked on a laugh. He’d have had better luck blaming the missing sweets on Sophia’s demon cats.
“You expect me to believe that ninety-pound Mason ate almost an entire pan of brownieson her own?”
“I mean, I had one or two. The twins shared one after lunch. Soph probably came down and had a couple too.”
My gaze dropped to the tray. Cameron always cut the pan into twelve even, somewhat generous slices. Three remained. Nine were gone. And his story only accounted for—at best—five.
“You’re telling me Mason hadfourbrownies?” I challenged, waiting for him to hear how dumb that sounded.
“Well, yeah. She’s eatin’ for two. It happens.”
He said it so casually, but the veryideamade bile rise in my throat.
I looked toward the living room. Rosie had stirred—or woken up, orsomething—and was now nursing while Mason played with her hair.
“She iswhat?” I kept my voice low.
Cameron paled.
“She’s…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I meant she’s feeding Rosie. Like, breastfeeding. You know how that makes you hungrier. Plus, Rosie eats all the time. So Mae’s eating for two. To make the milk.”
Bull. Shit.
“‘Eating for two’ means someoneispregnant, Cameron,” I pointed out.
“No, if she was pregnant, she’d be eating for three. Herself, Rosie, the baby.” He gestured vaguely toward the couch.
My voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Is this some fucked-up Canadian thing?”
“No!” Cameron whispered back. “I just misspoke. I assumed, seeing as she’s literally feeding two people, the saying applied.”
I stood a little straighter, pulling away just enough. Cameron sounded irritated—and he never got irritated with me or Mason. But he also neverliedto me.
Thanks to both our pasts, honesty was the foundation of our whole relationship.
“Cameron,” I said carefully, slipping my hands into my pockets to hide their shaking, “is Mason pregnant?”
His breath audibly hitched.
And I prepared to blow a fucking gasket.
He’dyelledat me for not using condoms from Lucian’s obscenely large stash.Iwas the one who bought the morning-after pill just to be safe.
