Page 79 of Full Out Fiend

I cuddle closer, curving my body around her soft form under the covers. Why sleep when I can spend the whole night holding her like this?

I was fucking livid when she assumed that I wouldn’t want to sleep beside her because I can’t get it in. Livid and a little insulted, if I’m honest.

But old habits die hard, and that’s how trauma works. At some point, the idea that her worth is tied to what she can offer was instilled in her. That couldn’t be further from the truth as far as I’m concerned.

I see what’s beside me. I know what I’m holding.

She is so much more than I ever thought I deserved. I’m going to spend the rest of forever making sure she fucking knows it, too.

I want to be where she is. Always.

When I called Dem to give him the ultrasound updates, he started in again. Hassling me about falling for her. Warning me to curb my enthusiasm, to not get ahead of myself when it comes to this relationship.

Joke’s on him, though. I’m not falling for this woman.

I’ve already tumbled over the edge and accepted my fate.

I am undoubtedly in love with Daphne.

Chapter 43

Daphne

Ireallyneedtowash my hair. Brush my teeth. Start on my makeup. I’ve got a million things to do before my baby shower today. And yet no matter how hard I try, I can’t get out of this bed.

Okay. Fine. Maybe I’m not tryingthathard. Between the way Fielding’s holding me and his stupid-comfortable sheets, I have a lot of compelling reasons to stay under the covers.

“What time do you want me there today?” he asks, skimming a hand over my bare hip in a blatant tease. I really do have to get going. He knows this. He also knows that every touch, every graze, makes it harder for me to leave.

I roll to face him and prop up on one elbow. “Serena thinks we’ll be ready to open presents around three. What are you going to do until then?”

Dempsey and Maddie are in town for the shower. And although I worried it would be awkward having them in the house with us all weekend, it’s been anything but. It helps that the house is huge and that Dempsey has his own wing on the opposite end of the second floor. The four of us have had a great time together. So much so that I’ll miss them when they head back to California tomorrow.

Fielding yawns before answering. “I talked Dem into going up to Holt for a pickup game of ice hockey. But that’s at noon, so we’ll have more than enough time to clean up and make our required appearance at the shower.”

I flush at the thought of the two of them sauntering into my shower that’s being held in the private room of The Grille. Most of my friends and family know so little about Fielding—my mom, in particular, is going to flip when she finds out he’s a twin.

“What’s that look for?” he teases, leaning forward to pepper my jaw with kisses. I place a firm hand on his chest to fend him off. If he gets started—again—I’ll never be ready in time.

“Nothing. Just thinking about the two of you walking into the shower together. Hopefully, I’ll be able to tell you apart.”

His lips still against my neck, his mouth warm and damp on my skin.

“I’ll wear something you’ll recognize. I won’t try to trick you,” he assures me.

I scoff at his concern. “I was teasing. Do you really think I can’t tell you two apart?”

Sure, they’re identical twins. But Fielding and I have been living together for months. We sleep beside each other every night. I watch him move throughout his day and practically drool over his existence on an hourly basis. Whether he realizes it or not, I’ve completed a masterclass in Fielding Haas.

“Your eyes are one shade lighter than his,” I start, kissing each of his closed eyelids in reverence. “Your hair is wavier, too. That, or Dempsey styles his more often so it’s not quite as unruly,” I tease, tousling his bedhead for emphasis. “You both get this little crease between your eyebrows when you’re thinking too hard,” I press into the wrinkle above his nose, “but Dempsey’s is deeper.”

“That’s because I don’t have to think as hard as he does,” he retorts. “You did well, choosing the smarter twin.”

I roll my eyes, but I’m not done.

“Your smile is wider. You slouch more than he does. You’re much more animated when you talk. But even without the physical differences, I could tell you apart in an instant by the way I feel when you look at me,” I conclude.

Fielding doesn’t say anything right away, his gaze fixed on me as we lie quietly in each other’s arms. A thickness starts to swirl between us—a blend of things unsaid and things we want to say.