Page 46 of Please Open Me
“What’s it treat?” he snorted. “A chronic case of being annoying as hell?”
A warm haze settled into my limbs, and for half a second, I wanted to tell him everything. All of it. The bodies. The guilt. The near-misses. The things I’d buried. The things I hadn’t.
But instead, I deflected.
“I don’t want any of the vegan bullshit you two eat,” I said, eyes on my game. “And I’ll get sick if I eat one of the ones for Cameron and Sophia.”
“Oh nooo,” he mocked. “The last thing we want is for Sebastian to have a hurt tummy.”
“Hey—have you considered fucking yourself?”
“Don’t need to,” he fired back without missing a beat. “I have a wife.”
My eyes narrowed. I took another drag.
The microwave beeped.
“Hey, Lucian. I just remembered something.” His back was to me, but I knew he was listening. “I'm going tofuckyour wife.”
A long silence filled the air, only to be broken by Lucian’s stomping.
And sure—I knew that was going to start a fight.
But again, I couldn’t force myself to care.
Chapter 13
Mason
A deep, hollow burn in my stomach forced me awake.
I’d been ignoring it for what? An hour? Drifting in and out of a restless slumber. But there was no denying it anymore: for the millionth time today, I was starving.
I groaned and scrubbed a hand over my face as my eyes adjusted to the perfect dark of our bedroom.
That’s when I realized I wasn’t alone in bed.
Cameron was asleep on the far side, practically glued to my nightstand. Rosie had somehow charmed her way into the middle. Which, yes, wasn’t technically safe. But God, it was cute. So cute.
She was curled up like a comma in her muslin sleep sack, the one covered in tiny moose. A thin stream of milk dribbled from her mouth, and when I looked down, I realized something else.
I was topless.
Rubbing my face, I tried to remember the last time I’d fed her, pretty sure it was a few hours ago. But I also had a blurry mental image of pulling her from the mini crib, plopping her on the bed, and letting her latch while I dozed.
Apparently, I’d never gotten around to putting her back.
Carefully, I slid a hand beneath her and lifted her to my chest. She made a soft noise–half sigh, half whimper–but didn’t wake. Her cheek squished against my shoulder, mouth slack from feeding. I kissed the top of her head and breathed her in, tears stinging behind my eyes.
She was so small. And I loved her so much. I could have a million babies just like her and be the happiest woman in the world.
But I didn’t want to be pregnant again.
And that’s what made this so hard.
I padded over to the crib and laid her down, holding my breath like the air itself might wake her. She hit the mattress with a sharp inhale, her arms shooting up, eyes flying open.
I froze like a burglar in my own house.
