Page 172 of Please Open Me
While he soaked, Cameron and I put the kids to bed, but, while Cameron was exhausted and ready for bed, I felt like I was starving to death. So, while he settled in for the night, I stood in the kitchen.
Belly out, fridge open, looking foranythingthat sounded good. I had no idea what I wanted, and for the first time since getting pregnant the idea of food was appalling. Everything smelled wrong, or too strong, or justoff.
Apparently, growing twins made my body demand things it couldn’t name.
A soft rustle behind me broke the silence, and I didn’t need to turn to know who’d be standing behind me. Even if I knew for a fact he never loved me, my skin always tingled at his presence.
“The baby is making itself known tonight,” Lucian said casually, placing a hand on my stomach.
My spine went ratchet straight as I suppressed the urge to jump out of my skin.
“Thebaby–” It was hard to talk about them as just one, but I didn’t want the knowledge of twins to give Lucian anymore ideas. “–is starving to death and nothing sounds good.”
I turned to face him, but the second my eyes locked with his, I had to look away. Even if Lucian didn’t love me, and just loved the idea of me or the thought of owning me, it was hard to look at him knowing what tomorrow would bring.
His hand didn’t move. Not right away.
“I can go out and get you something,” he offered quietly. “Whatever you want.”
I shook my head, “I don’t know what I want.”
A smile lifted one corner of Lucian’s lips.
“Pizza?” he suggested.
“No.”
“Pasta?”
“No.”
“Chinese?”
“No.”
He paused for a moment and scratched his head. “French fries and neon yellow cheese?”
My stomach growled. My jaw tensed as I looked at the ceiling, silently cursing the babies for my new favorite food.
“Oh my god.” He beamed, softly patting the curve of my stomach. “You’re so pregnant.”
“Stop,” I warned.
“French fries, yellow cheese, and a Shirley Temple with extra cherries–that’s what you asked for that night at Leo’s right?” Lucian chuckled as if that was a fond memory.
As if I hadn’t caught him with a bag of opioids that very night.
Lucian either didn’t notice the way his words caused me to stiffen, or he didn’t care. Either were possible.
“I’ll grab the fries and get extra cheese,” he promised. “And a Shirley Temple if they’ve got cherries. You’ll owe me for this craving run, you know.”
His teasing was gentle, and in another life, I would have flipped him off. But, right now I couldn’t, because his hand was still on my stomach and I was still hung up on how perfect we could have been if Lucian loved me like I loved him.
And, my heart broke once more.
“Hey, Kitten, are you okay?” he asked gently, cupping my chin.
And I nodded despite the burn in my eyes.
