Page 66 of Not Ready

Why doesn’t he smile more?

He really should.

“Your beard hides them sometimes, but when you really smile, there’s no holding back those dimples of yours.” I stretch a hand over, brushing my thumb along the deep indent in his cheek.

Mercy squeezes my hand, exhaling heavily. He had a glass of Scotch after the room service dinner we ate at the small table in the corner. I can smell the alcohol on his breath, but it doesn’t bother me. I’m not a huge fan of drunk people, after working in bars and clubs for so long, but Mercy is mentally clear enough to beat me at every game we’ve played.

He releases me and gathers the game boards before shoving himself off the mattress. “I think I’ll take a quick shower. We can watch a movie after, if you’d like?”

I nod. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

He heads off, and I snuggle back into the wall of pillows behind me. I wish I could call Bishop and tell him good night. All the nights we chatted while he was working file through my mind. The overwhelming sadness that came when it was time to say good night. The ache that would fill my chest when I wished I could be in his arms… It all seems to hit me at once.

God, pregnancy is ridiculous.

It’s only going to be another day or two, max, and we’ll be together again, but my eyes ache.

I sniffle and rub my nose.

My life is getting better.

Where the hell did this overwhelming feeling of melancholy come from?

Maybe it’s being back in DC.

Holt has been weird since we signed the papers yesterday. He barely talked during the entire drive, and he’s purposely gone out of his way to stay as far away from me as possible.

Mercy comes out of the bathroom in thin dark-gray pants. They’re like pajama bottoms or maybe very thin sweats, but whoa.

I’ve seen him in his workout gear before, but never shirtless. He dries his black hair with a towel, and I can’t seem to glance away from the way his lithe muscles move and flex. He’s got a chest piece and tattoos framing each side. They follow his side down and around his hip bone before disappearing into the waistband of his sweats.

I awkwardly focus on the television.

It’s on but sitting on a menu.

He tosses the towel somewhere that I can’t see because I refuse to look at him. He has a completely different frame from Bishop. He’s extremely attractive, too, with the kind of charm that sneaks up on you.

“Would you prefer I stretch out in the other bed?” he asks, walking closer.

“Totally up to you. If Holt doesn’t come back tonight, then the other bed might go to waste.” I shrug. “But if he does, you might end up sharing with him if you lie over there.” Let’s be real, I think we both know Holt isn’t climbing into bed next to me.

“Right, then, you scoot over.” He makes a shooing motion.

I snort, trying to roll back. Damn, once Aurora is born, one thing I won’t miss is every movement being a great undertaking.

A queen-size bed seems like a decent amount of space, except when one person is heavily pregnant and the other is a giant.

Mercy is slender, but he takes up a lot of space once he stretches out. He leans against the headboard, and his feet still nearly reach the end of the bed.

I nod. “How in the world do you sleep without hanging off the bottom?”

“Normally, I curl up, but you’re right. Most beds aren’t meant to accommodate alphas.” His dimples pop as he gives a sly smile. “I suppose I’ll have to twist around you to fit.”

Oh my.

Bishop and I had another talk last night. He repeatedly assured me that, if anything happened between Mercer and me, he would be okay with it.

It’s still hard to fathom.

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