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His bed, because since the first time we slept together two weeks ago, we haven’t spent a single night apart.

Lucy gives him an annoyed look as he takes the spot where she’s been resting and ignores him.

“How’s my little guacamole doing?” Braxton asks, his hand resting on my belly.

“And you say I’m a nut.” Ever since I told him the baby was the size of a lemon, he’s taken to checking a website that measures a fetus’s size using fruits and vegetables for references. I love it, though, the way he’s always asking about our baby, or how I’m feeling. I’ve never felt so pampered or taken care of, and over the last two weeks since we’ve been living together, I haven’t just begun falling for Braxton, I’m completely head over heels in love with him.

He’s not only an incredible man, he’s going to be an even more amazing father.

“Well, yeah. You’re sixteen weeks so he or she is the size of an avocado. Given your abundant cravings of Mexican food, I figure it’s also filled with spices.”

“Nice.” I drain the rest of my shake and eat my fries while I hand Braxton the remote so he can put on whatever show he wants. I’ve been putting off telling him about a phone call I received from my parents a couple days ago, but I can’t avoid it any longer. “I have to talk to you about something.”

One of his arms is slung over my shoulder and at what has to be an ominous tone in my voice, he grips me tighter.

“What is it?” He drops the remote onto his lap and turns, lifting me so I’m facing him. “What happened?”

“My parents called.”

We haven’t spoken of them since the day after I moved in. They’ve been shoved into a back corner, collecting dust bunnies while at least I pretend that someday my parents will become decent people. At my statement, Braxton’s eyes widen and a muscle jumps. “They did.”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“And they want to see me for dinner. Tomorrow night.”

“How kind of them to give you a day’s notice.”

My gaze slides to the left and Braxton’s hand lands on my thigh. “Cara? They called today?”

“Not exactly.” I can’t look at him. I haven’t technically lied to him, but it’s the first time I feel like we haven’t been completely honest with each other either. Somehow, it feels like I’ve betrayed him in some way.

“When did they call?”

“Monday?” I chance a peek at him as the weight of the couch moves.

He shifts back, pulling his arm from behind me. “I see.”

“I didn’t mean to keep it from you, I just wanted to avoid thinking about it.”

“What’d they say?”

My hand rests on my stomach, as if I’m already feeling the need to protect my baby. I can’t hide the cringe when I say, “They want to talk to me about my situation.”

“Your situation?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck.” He scrubs a hand down his face, back up and through his black hair. Tension radiates off him and I fight not to shrink away from the glare in his eyes. “You can’t go. I have an appointment I can’t change and there’s no way in hell I’m letting you be around them alone, so they can treat you like crap.”

His reaction is mostly why I’ve been avoiding this entire conversation. “The thing is, they specifically said they only want me to come.”

God, it sounds horrible, and it’s even worse I’ve been considering this. The hurt in Braxton’s face is clear and it makes me want to reach out to reassure him it’s just their same old crap. I lift a hand and he pushes it down, shoving off the couch. “I see.”

It’s the second time he’s said it. It hurts more this time.

“Braxton—”