Page 80 of The Billionaire's Wife

“It does.” I dropped my head on her shoulder for a moment.

Dad strolled into the kitchen and his eyebrows shot up. “You making time with my girl?”

“Always.” I kissed Mom’s cheek and slid off my seat at the island. “I’m going to make Faith a cup of coffee and take it to her. Mom’s got your day all planned out. She can fill you in.”

“She usually does.” Dad’s laugh carried me through the process of fixing Faith’s coffee and heading toward the bedrooms. I smiled as I heard the cabinet doors opening and closing as Dad hunted around for what he needed.

I paused outside my—our—bedroom door. Should I knock? I glanced back toward the kitchen. Mom and Dad couldn’t see me from here, but they might hear me if I was too loud. And that was still better than walking in on Faith before she was ready for me to come in.

I tapped quietly.

“Yeah?”

It wasn’t the most helpful response, but I’d go with it. I turned the knob and pushed the coffee through first. “I brought you coffee.”

“You can come in.”

I opened the door the rest of the way. Dressed in casual slacks and a sweater, Faith squeezed her wet hair with a towel. “Your coffee, madame.”

She laughed. “Lifesaver.”

“I do what I can.” I shut the door behind me and took the mug across to her. “You look really nice.”

Her cheeks pinked. “Thanks. Megan said casual, but it feels like jeans might be a little underwhelming.”

“I get that. I can do jeans on days when I don’t have clients scheduled, but there could be walk-ins, all kinds of things. So I dress the part.”

She sipped and closed her eyes as she breathed out. “This is perfect.”

So are you. The words were on the tip of my tongue, but I held them back. I couldn’t gauge her response to them and I didn’t want to set us back further than we already were.

“Mom and Dad are up and in the kitchen. I don’t think it would take much to talk Mom into eggs or pancakes if you were so inclined.”

“Can she do French toast?”

I nodded. “She can.”

“Then I might see what I can do. We have that fancy wheat bread and everything.”

I laughed. “I wouldn’t say no to a slice or two if you ask. But I want to grab a shower if you’re finished in there?”

“Okay. Let me grab my hairdryer. I can finish out here.” Faith set her coffee down on the nightstand and hurried into the bathroom. She was back out quickly, holding her hairdryer and makeup bag. “All yours.”

I took a minute to grab clothes out of the closet and take them in with me. It seemed like we were being extra careful with one another today, so I didn’t want to risk her still being in the room if I came out in a towel.

I made quick work of the shower and getting dressed. Even still, when I left the steamy bathroom, the bed was made and the door stood ajar. Faith had hung her towel on the bathroom doorknob, so I took a moment to hang it on a rack then followed the sound of laughter and clinking forks to the kitchen.

“Look at you, all spiffed up for a day of arguing with people.” Dad glanced over from his plate of French toast with a grin. He shifted to look at Faith. “Always knew he’d make a good lawyer. He had an argument and objection for everything.”

“Hey.” I pointed my finger at Dad. “Careful, old man.”

“Old? Who’re you calling old?” Dad scowled at me.

“You.” I grinned, then crossed to kiss Mom’s cheek. “Did you make me any?”

“I’ll do it now. I wasn’t sure how long you’d be. I was just telling Faith about how you used to shower for close to an hour when you were a teenager.”

“Mom.” Heat crawled up my neck. Maybe having them around wasn’t such a good idea, after all.

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