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“You’ve basically been eating them nonstop.” I casually shrug one shoulder. “Figured it was a safe choice if everything else flopped.”

“Mmmm,” she hums as she pulls the jar of bread and butter pickles in front of her.

Her small hands barely fit around the lid and before she even begins to struggle to open it I pluck it from her hands and twist the top off, unceremoniously setting the open jar back in front of her.

One flavored spear disappears in three large bites as she once again hums with pleasure. She watches me moving around in her kitchen while munching on her pickles. I’ve been in this kitchen so many times I know it almost as well as my boat. I’m in the middle of cracking eggs into a mixing bowl when Bambi’s loud exclamation almost causes me to drop an egg on the floor.

“Wait! How did you get into my apartment? I swear I locked all the doors downstairs.”

Kind of surprised it took her this long to realize. I keep cracking eggs and slicing spam, my gaze focused on the food in front of me.

“A key of course.”

“What key?”

“My key.”

I can feel her narrowed gaze and glower trying to burn a hole in my forehead, but I don’t look up. It’ll only make me laugh and I’m already having a difficult time keeping it contained.

“I didn’t give you a new key,” she says slowly, carefully. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.

“No you didn’t.”

“Then how did you get one?”

“I had it made.”

“When?” Her voice is almost shrill at the one-word demand.

“The other day. I wanted to make sure I could get to you in an emergency.” Her face softens as I look up at her, pausing my preparation. “I had a dream that you went into labor locked inside your apartment and no one could get in to help you. I wanted to make sure if that happened, I could get to you.”

Her expression softens even more, going from righteous indignation to grateful appreciation.

“I guess that’s okay then.”

“I promise I won’t use it if you don’t want me to, but I’m not giving it back.”

A small smile quirks the corner of her lips that makes me want to kiss her. Would she mind? I don’t think she would, maybe I’ll try later, after I’ve made her weird omelet.

Chapter 21: Raelyn

You were always my happy place

Breakfast for dinner is the best kind of dinner. Warren watches me warily as I cut a slice out of my weird, layered meal. The colorful skittle and spam omelet set right on top of two fluffy chocolate chip pancakes smothered in butter and maple syrup. He made himself an omelet and pancakes as well, but he didn’t add the skittles to his and eats them like a boring normal person, separately.

I’m halfway through my delicious meal when I feel a swift kick to my gut and burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Warren asks, a fork hovering halfway to his mouth.

“The baby just kicked.”

“Maybe he doesn’t like the spam and skittles?”

I’m pretty sure the spam and skittles were completely the baby’s idea so that can’t be right. The baby kicks again and I set down my fork to hold my hand to the side of my stomach.

“Here, come feel.”

Warren instantly stands from the stool next to me and rounds to stand behind me, his left arm wrapping around my back to place a large warm hand on the place I indicate. With his body behind me I feel completely surrounded by his presence. He doesn’t need to, but he presses close to my back, allowingme to lean against him for support, his right arm circling around my other side as well. Both hands are now flat and cradling my stomach and our son within.