Page 84 of Coming Up Roses

Cash

I readin my What to Expect book that pregnancy can cause mood swings, but for the past month, Myla has been extra-super-moody. I don’t wanna say crazy, but damn. She goes from hot to cold and back again in the blink of an eye.

Not to mention, these mood swings always go together with her text notifications. Reluctantly, I believed her the first time when she said it was a problem client, but come on. How many difficult clients can you have? Combine that with her conveniently forgetting to tell me her doctor was Taylor’s dad—pregnant brain, she called it—and my doubts are building. I hate feeling this way, but I’m at a total loss.

I’m almost at the point of asking the guys if they know anything, but that feels like a violation of our relationship. Of her trust. Which is kinda absurd, since I’m ninety-nine percent sure she’s lying to me.

Sliding my safety goggles back down, I shake off the negative thoughts fogging up my brain. This piece has a deadline, and these cuts have to be made to meet it, and distracted cutting leads to injury. No thanks.

I lose myself in my work for hours, measuring, marking, cutting, sanding. Again, and again and again. By the time I finish, the sun has long since set. I get so hyper focused when working that the outside world falls away, meaning I haven’t talked to Myla Rose at all today. Not even once. Fuck.

Scrambling around the shop, I finally locate my phone on one of my work benches. Only there’s no new notifications. Double fuck.

Unlocking my phone, I scroll as fast my fingers allow and dial Myla’s number. Thank God, her sleepy voice comes through after the second ring. “Hey there, babe.”

“Hey. Missed you today.”

“Missed you too.”

“Not to be that guy, but I was hoping to hear from you today . . .” I trail off, not wanting my agitation to upset her.

“I was so slammed at work today, and I remember you mentioning you had to get the piece you’ve been working on ready, so I figured you’d call me when you had time.”

Her voice is raspy from sleep, and even if she’s been lying to me, her words are a pang to my heart. “Fuck, darlin’. I’m sorry. Busy or not, I’ll make time for you. Know that.”

“Okay, Cash. Will you be mad if I go back to bed?”

“Not even a little. Sweet dreams, darlin’.” I end the call and make my way home, feeling a smidge lighter.

* * *

I didn’t sleepfor shit last night. My mind was racing, all my thoughts centered on Myla Rose. Without bothering to check the time, I dial her number.

“Good morning, Mr. Carson,” she chirps into the phone. Love that my girl’s a morning person—after coffee, that is.

“G’morning to you too. You got another busy day?”

“Ugh, yes. We always get slammed right before summer really hits, then it slows down until fall.”

“Can’t wait for that slow time,” I tell her, imagining all the ways I could keep her occupied.

“Though I’ll probably stay busy, with little man coming in September.”

“True. Didn’t think of that. Well, I’m always here to help, darlin’. Any way I can.”

“Any way, huh? I can think of a few.” Yeah, me too.

“Why don’t you share some of those ways with me?”

“Oh, come now, a girl’s gotta have some mystery.” Her voice is laced with humor, but damn if her words don’t set me on edge. It’s her mystery that’s killing me. Like, I’m two seconds from going all Scooby-Doo on her ass.

“Guess that’s right. Well, I gotta get going, darlin’. Talk later. Love you.”

She releases a soft sigh. “Love you too, babe.”

* * *

It’smid-morning when I finally give in to the urge to go see Myla Rose. I figure if I come bearing caffeine, I’ll be an extra-welcome sight. Add a quick kiss in, and it’ll hold me over until she’s off for the day.

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