Page 26 of Devil in the Details

Pope

Six months later

I gave one more glance at baby Lorenzo, then looked at Soraya and Felix, seeing both of them staring down at their dark-haired little son. We’d come to visit them almost an hour before, not only to meet the newest Brookwood addition, but to congratulate them on their recent marriage.

And although I was trying to pay attention to what everyone was saying, the only thing I could think about, focus on, was Olive.

She sat right beside me, this little smile on her face as she held baby Lorenzo and stared down at him.

He slept soundly in her arms, and my heart lurched in my chest, one thought going through my mind over and over again.

I want that. I want Olive as my wife, big with my baby, the mother of my children.

I glanced down at her left hand, at her ring finger. The two-carat diamond looked good on her, real fucking good. It meant she was mine, that she’d be mine legally this time next year.

She looked incredible holding a baby, and every part of me wanted that baby she held to be ours, to be a little piece of both of us.

“Can you believe I’ve got a baby and am married now?” Soraya sounded like she was happy, like she had finally gotten everything she wanted.

And as I stared at Olive, I knew I’d have that too. I already did.

I glanced up at Soraya and smiled. “It looks good on you.” I turned my gaze to Felix. “It looks incredible on both of you. Congratulations again, on the beautiful baby boy and the marriage.”

Lorenzo started fussing, and Olive stood to hand the baby over to Soraya.

“Congratulations to you as well, both of you.” Soraya smiled. “The wedding will no doubt be beautiful.”

Olive glanced down at her ring, the grin on her face making me smile in return. I loved seeing her happy, loved it even more, because I was the reason for it.

“Excuse me. He’s hungry.” Soraya stood and started heading off to somewhere more private in their apartment.

Felix chuckled. “He’s always hungry. He’s got one voracious appetite.”

I heard Soraya laugh as she left.

I wrapped my arm around Olive and pulled her closer.

Every part of my body was on fire as possessiveness had me staking my claim, even if Felix was newly and happily married.

.. clearly deliriously happy. I supposed it was a primal instinct in me that made me do this, like I needed to mark my territory.

I looked at Olive and couldn’t help but smile, couldn’t help but feel myself fall in love with her even more.

For the next twenty-five minutes, we sat there and spoke with Felix—a lot of business talk—but mainly it was also about Chloe and Lorenzo. I could see the love he had for his children, and it made me want that as well.

I reached out and took Olive’s hand, giving it a squeeze. Once Soraya was back out, baby Lorenzo napping in his crib, we said our goodbyes and left. I continued to hold Olive’s hand as we made our way out of their apartment building, got a cab, and headed back to our place.

Three months ago, she’d moved in.

Two months ago, I’d asked her to marry me.

The truth was, I’d wanted to ask her as soon as she moved into my place.

Hell, even before that. But I’d waited. I let us get settled into the new routine and fucking loved every minute of it.

And as I glanced over at her, watching as she stared out the passenger side window of the cab, I felt my heart lurch in my chest once more.

“I love you,” I said softly, and she looked at me, a small smile playing across her lips. I cupped the side of her face and smoothed my thumb along her cheek, marveling at the fact that I was such a lucky bastard to have found her, to have her in my life.

“I love you too,” she replied and leaned in, kissing me on the lips gently, neither one of us caring we were in the back of a taxi in the middle of a busy city street.

Nothing mattered except the woman in my arms.

Nothing else mattered except the life we were building.

Olive

I stood in front of our apartment door, my heart racing, the keys in my hand slightly clanking together as my hand shook. Although I’d seen Pope today at work, it wasn’t until he left for a meeting mid-afternoon and had been gone for the rest of the day that I finally did what I had to do.

Took that pregnancy test.

And as I sat in the bathroom in our office building, staring at those two pink lines, I knew this moment would change everything. But whether that was for the best or not was still left to be decided.

In like… five minutes.

It wasn’t like we hadn’t talked about having children, about starting a family in the future. But with that reality now in our faces, how would Pope react? Would he be receptive to it, open to it?

Would he be happy?

And over the last six months, I’d felt things with us had grown exponentially. We were professional in the workplace, knew where to draw the line.

Most of the time.

Although I wouldn’t lie and say we didn’t break the rules a little bit, like meeting in his office during lunch breaks, locking the doors, pulling down the blinds to his front window, and doing all the things we probably shouldn’t be doing on the clock.

But then again, that’s what made it exciting. That’s what had that connection growing between us even more.

And every day, I felt like we were moving toward our future, our forever.

But this was life-changing, a little piece of Pope and me growing inside me. Something that would forever bond us together, keep us close no matter what.

So I took a deep breath and opened the door. Instantly, I smelled marinara sauce and garlic. Pope stepped out from the kitchen and grinned, the white apron he wore splattered with red sauce.

“Hey, baby.” He smiled. “Making some pasta and meatballs.” He disappeared back into the kitchen, only to emerge a moment later with two glasses of wine. “Thirsty?”

The smell of the garlic and marinara and the sight of that white wine slightly splashing around in the clear crystal glass instantly had my stomach turning.

I shook my head, trying to stem off the need to throw up, but it was no use. I dropped my bag and hauled ass to the bathroom.

I fell to my knees once I was by the toilet, flung open the lid, and proceeded to vomit. I was very aware that Pope was standing in the doorway, could feel his presence, his worry.

Once I was done emptying my stomach, I flushed the toilet, closed the lid, and leaned back against the bathtub. I looked up at him, my eyes watery, my stomach queasy. He still held the two glasses of wine, his brow furrowed with concern.

“Olive? Are you okay?” He set the glasses on the bathroom counter and then got on his haunches in front of me.

I felt his hand on my forehead, realized I’d closed my eyes, and when I opened them, I covered my mouth with my hand so he wasn’t getting the full effect of the fact that I had just vomited.

“I’m fine,” I said in a muffled voice from behind my palm.

He moved his palm over my forehead before pulling it away. “You don’t have a fever. Did you eat something bad at work? Do you think you’re coming down with the flu or something?” He leaned back, and I dropped my hand to my side, slowly shaking my head.

“No, it’s nothing like that.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, and I knew I just needed to come out and say what I needed to.

“Let me call the doctor, get you an appointment.”

I shook my head. “It’s not that kind of sickness, Pope.”

He furrowed his brow a second, but then his eyes slightly widened as he dropped his gaze down to my belly.

“Olive?” His voice was so soft, so low I barely heard it. “How long have you known?” He was sitting fully on the floor now, as if he couldn’t hold himself up any longer.

Yeah, I’d felt the same way when I first found out.

I thought about it for a moment and then said, “Half a day?” I chuckled humorlessly, awkwardly, because I was nervous. My heart was racing so fast as I waited for his response, waited to see what he’d say, how he would react when this actually settled in.

He lifted his hand and rubbed his jaw, the sound of his palm moving over his scruff loud in the small bathroom. “A baby, Olive.” He didn’t phrase it like a question.

“Yeah, crazy, right?” My heart was so loud I heard it pounding in my ears.

He looked up at me, pulling his gaze from my belly, his focus crystal clear.

For a second, we just sat there, neither of us saying a thing, not even moving, maybe not even breathing.

And before I could say anything, try to see what he was thinking, where he was at during all this, Pope pulled me into his lap, wrapped his arms around my waist, and kissed me passionately.

I got lost in the feelings, in the sensations.

“A baby, Olive. A fucking baby.” He pulled back, a grin spread across his face.

“You’re happy?” God, everything stood still as I asked that.

“Happy?” He chuckled softly. “I’m more than happy. This is what I’ve wanted, baby. This is what I’ve always wanted with you.”

I could have cried as I listened to those words, absorbed them.

“Yeah?”

He chuckled and nodded. “So fucking happy. You’ll be my wife and now the mother of my babies. Damn, I’m so damn happy.” He pulled me in for another hug and I didn’t stop my grin. “You happy?” He didn’t pull back, just kept holding me.

I didn’t need to think about his question to know the answer. “I am, Pope. I really am.” I was the one to pull back, to look in his face. I felt the heaviness of the engagement ring on my finger.

“My wife. My baby.” He cupped my face. “My soulmate.”

And when he leaned in and kissed me, I knew this was exactly where I was supposed to be. Right here in Pope’s arms.

The End