Page 48 of Pretty Desperate (Pine Village #6)

KAMERON

I t’s been just over three weeks since I found out I am going to be a dad, and I don’t think I’ve ever been happier in my life. Not just the pregnancy, but Jillian too. Proving to her this is real, making her mine, is what dreams are made of.

We see her obstetrician on Friday, just two short days away, and I’m ready.

I’ve been anxious since the moment she told me she was pregnant, and fortunately for her, the nausea hasn’t turned into vomiting.

A few bouts of queasiness, mostly after she eats, and the fact she’s super tired are the major symptoms she’s dealing with right now.

Her normal eight to eight thirty bedtime has turned into even earlier lately, or at least naptime.

She’s stayed at my house, waited for me in my bed several nights throughout the week, and it’s the best feeling ever, coming home and finding her there.

I want that every night.

When I got home this evening, I found her asleep on my couch, a nineties chick flick movie playing on the TV.

Instead of waking her or carrying her to bed, I sat beside her and just breathed her in.

She shimmied closer to me, but didn’t wake up, and even though it’s late and I need to crash myself, I take a few minutes to relax.

I’ve been working extra lately, thanks to the restaurant remodel.

The building next door is coming along nicely.

The large entrance between the two buildings was cut out and a thick piece of plastic was installed to keep people from walking into the addition while it is under construction.

Of course, everyone asks about it. Veronica and the serving staff are fielding questions every day, but they don’t seem to mind.

It just shows how excited the town is for the larger space.

And every night when I do a walk-through to thank those people for their support and make sure they are enjoying their meal, I get happy smiles and anticipation for what’s to come.

Not to mention, kudos for Jillian and her sweet treats…

She’s been providing the desserts for the restaurant for over two weeks now, and I’m pretty sure the increase in customers has been for that very reason alone.

It’s not my specials that bring them to the door, it’s her decadent, delicious desserts.

Word spread like wildfire that she was creating special desserts for me, and since they’re specific treats not offered in her bakery, everyone seems to want to try them.

And why wouldn’t they?

She’s fucking amazing.

Knowing she has an early morning, I carefully reach for her laptop.

It’s still open and sitting off to the side on the arm of the couch, out of the way.

When I move it, the screen wakes up and comes to life.

I go to set the device down on the coffee table, but what’s on the screen catches my eye.

I realize instantly what I’m looking at.

A recipe.

But then I find myself scrolling and scrolling some more, and I realize it’s not a recipe or even a couple.

It’s a cookbook. It’s fascinating and enthralling and a wave of pride rushes through my body.

The recipes are all for desserts and they appear to be categorized.

Decadent chocolates, cakes, cupcakes, and cookies, no-bake treats, fruity options, and more.

Some of the treats she’s even featured in my restaurant.

It’s not a super big cookbook, but I can feel the love pouring from every page I read.

Why hasn’t she mentioned this?

A cookbook? That’s a huge deal!

I close the lid on the laptop and place it on the table. Then, I move in close and gently wake her up. “Jilly, it’s late. I’m going to carry you to bed,” I whisper.

As soon as I scoop her up, she wraps her arms around my neck and holds on. “You don’t have to carry me,” she murmurs softly, resting her cheek against my neck.

“I know, but I love the feel of you in my arms,” I tell her, carefully walking to my bedroom and placing her down on the bed.

I help pull the comforter back and cover her before pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“I’m gonna run through the shower. Go back to sleep, love,” I tell her, brushing the hair off her cheek with my hand.

“’Kay,” she mutters as she burrows into the pillow and seems to fall fast asleep.

I stand here, watching, for a few more seconds before heading to the bathroom to shower.

I’m quick, not wanting to waste a single minute with her in my bed.

Someday, I’ll make it our bed, but everything still seems so new.

Even with a baby on the way, I don’t want to rush it, even if getting my ring on her finger suddenly seems like the only option there is.

Someday.

It’ll happen.

I’ll make her mine forever.

After I wash the restaurant off me, I dry off and slip on a pair of cotton shorts I left hanging on the back of the door.

Then, I return to my bed where I left the woman I love.

She’s fast asleep, curled on her side facing my side of the bed.

I slip beneath the covers and reach for her.

Even in her sleep, she moves toward me and settles against my side.

It’s the best way to sleep.

The only way I want to sleep.

Exhaustion hits me hard. Not only was the restaurant open tonight, but I spent a big chunk of my day at both buildings, prepping to be open and meeting with the contractor to finalize a few last-minute changes.

Knowing her alarm will be waking her up sooner rather than later, I close my eyes and settle into a comfortable position.

Of course, as long as Jillian is here, any position is comfortable.

Then, I let sleep claim me.

When her alarm goes off, I feel like I’ve only been asleep a couple hours, but that doesn’t stop me from climbing from the bed. “Stay. Sleep,” she murmurs, reaching out for me.

“I can go back to sleep when you leave. For now, I’ll grab you something to eat while you jump in the shower.”

This is our routine when we’re together.

I make her a slice of toast or an English muffin so she has something solid in her stomach, just in case her nausea gets worse.

I also make her a mug of warm ginger tea.

After researching on the internet for ways to help relieve her nausea, I found lots of information with different options to try.

The ginger tea and something light and plain first thing in the morning seems to help her throughout the rest of her early morning.

When the tea and English muffin are ready, I take them into the bathroom. She’s completing her shower, and I can’t help but be a bit of a voyeur and watch.

Thank God for clear shower doors…

“You’re being creepy,” she says as she shuts off the water and opens the door.

I’m there, handing over a thick, fluffy towel. “It’s not my fault there’s a beautiful, naked woman in my shower,” I tease, even though I’m not joking in the least.

“Hmm, you say that now. Just wait six or eight months when I’ve gained thirty pounds and can’t bend over to tie my shoes. Nothing sexy about that,” she states with a chuckle.

I’m moving before she can finish drying off her arms. Not caring about getting wet, I pull her into my arms. “Don’t do that.

Don’t belittle the woman I love. She’s growing a life and with that comes some body changes.

I, personally, am looking forward to witnessing every one of them.

In fact,” I state, rocking my hips forward to show her how hard the thought of her being nine-months pregnant with my baby has me, “just the thought of it has me so hard I could cut glass.”

She giggles, wrapping her arms around my neck and pressing a kiss to my bare shoulder. “I think you’re silly.”

“Nope,” I insist. Even though I’d rather bend her over the bathroom sink, I take a step back and reach for the mug of tea. “Breakfast.”

She flashes a grateful grin and wraps the towel around her chest before reaching for the mug. “Mmm, thank you,” she murmurs after taking a small sip.

“You’re welcome,” I reply, propping my ass against the counter. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” she insists, taking one more sip before replacing the mug on the counter and grabbing half her English muffin and taking a small bite.

“Last night, when I moved your laptop, something came up on the screen,” I start, keeping my eyes on her.

That’s why I notice the way she freezes and she tries to cover it with taking another bite of her breakfast. “Since you’re not saying anything, I assume you know what I’m referring to.

Why didn’t you tell me you were writing a cookbook?

” I ask, unable to keep the excitement out of my voice.

“I’m—it’s nothing,” she quickly insists, as if she can’t get the words out fast enough.

“What do you mean it’s nothing? It’s fucking amazing,” I encourage, trying to understand why she’s not more excited about this.

She’s already shaking her head as she reaches up and tightens her towel. “Kameron, you don’t understand. It’s just a…dream. It’s not happening. I’m not producing a cookbook.”

I try to keep my confusion off my face and my body relaxed. “But what if you did? From what I saw, it’s fucking fantastic. I’d buy it.”

Jillian rolls her eyes. “Of course you would. You’re my boyfriend.”

“Damn right I am. I’d buy a hundred copies and gift them to everyone I know for Christmas.”

She shakes her head and cracks a smile. “I appreciate that, and I have no doubt you would, but it’s not real. It’s just something I’ve been jotting down for a while. It doesn’t mean anything.”

But there’s no missing the look of longing she tries to hide in the depths of her green eyes. She wants this but is afraid to take the steps. Has she even inquired about what it would take?

Dreams are only achieved if you’re brave enough to take the risk.