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She brushes her fingers through my hair. “You slept in. I didn’t want to wake you.”
I snuggle closer to her side and place a hand over her rounded belly. “How’s my baby?”
“He hasn’t woken yet, probably because he was up all night.”
“He will once you eat.” I pull up her shirt and kiss her stomach. “What’s the plan for today?”
“Unfortunately, because of the nasty weather, and because I have a studio with a gorgeous view, we’re doing a shoot here,” she rushes out. “Before I’m the size of a blimp and creative angles and Photoshop no longer work, you know?”
I peer up at her and tug on a braid. “You will not be the size of a blimp. You’re perfect. What time is the shoot?”
“In an hour.” She grimaces.
I groan, not ready to get out of bed. “Okay, come snuggle with me then.”
She slides in next to me, enveloping me in her jasmine-and-vanilla scent. I wrap my arms around her, close my eyes, and breathe her in.
Nuzzling my neck, she releases a satisfied sigh. “I love this. Everything feels surreal, like we’re living in a dream.”
I can’t help but smile. “I love you. You’remydream.”
We’re in our own little world with Ethan’s family. We spend more time together than ever, and I almost feel bad for returning to hockey. We won’t find peace in LA, and soon enough, shit will go down with Kyle, and there’ll be no peace for us.
Aurora dancesaround the kitchen in my T-shirt and leggings, brewing coffee.
I open the fridge and scan the food options. “You want me to make you scrambled eggs, babe?”
She scrunches her nose. “Too nauseated. I’ll eat later.”
“How about oatmeal?”
She pours coffee into a mug before she adds a diabetes amount of sweetener. “I’m craving those pastries Ricky gets, the ones with the strawberries and a flaky crust.” She tips her head back and lets out an exaggerated moan. “Those are so freaking good.”
I might crack a molar with how hard I clench my teeth. “In Tribeca?” I slam the fridge door shut, unable to hold in my annoyance.
She points a finger at my face. “Don’t start, O’Reilly. You make my favorite dinners.”
“I’m not going to Tribeca to get you damn pastries.”
She widens her eyes. “Then don’t!”
Desi pops his head in, interrupting our banter. “There’s a blonde here with more clothes.”
Aurora shoots me an uneasy glance. “That’s Emily.”
“You want me to leave?”
She wraps her arms around me and gives a quick hug. “Nope. We’ll be in the studio, and this is your place too.” She grabs her mug of coffee, standing on her tippy-toes to kiss me. “Love you.”
“Love you. Donotforget to eat, because I’m not going to Tribeca for fucking pastries.”
I refuse. That’s on him. He spoiled her.
She rushes out of the kitchen, her laughter trailing after her.
The twins, Ricky, and I sit in the living room in mismatched, worn-in chairs, eating donuts and drinking coffee—except me. That bitter shit is nasty.
I may hate New York, but nothing beats the donuts here—okay, the pastries aren’t bad either.