Page 73 of Found By You

I pout. “Duke.”

“No, seriously, the crib has to stay here. I measured the bedroom at the cabin, and unless you want to put the baby in the living room by the fireplace, it ain’t happening.”

I scrunch my nose. “Are you sure? I thought if I pushed the bed up against the wall, I could fit the crib next to it.”

He grumbles under his breath, and I fight down a smirk. “We’ll see. Did you buy anything else?”

“A mattress for the crib, but that’s it.”

“All right, well, we should probably start a list, figure out everything we need, and keep me in the loop when you’re buying things. But for now, if you don’t mind, I’d like it if you could pick out a few paint colors for the house.”

We’re quick to agree on a majority of the paint samples—well, more like Duke asks me what I like, then just agrees with me. Same as he’s done with everything else with his house.

And I do mean everything.

I point to a hideous brown for the upstairs master bathroom as a test. “I like this one.”

Duke scoffs. “No, you don’t.”

“I do, too,” I say stubbornly.

He narrows his eyes at me, keeping my gaze as he points to a beautiful rumba orange that I love. “You like this one.” His tone stern, knowing—because he’s right. I do.

“You can’t just keep going with everything I pick, Duke,” I huff. “Tell me which one you like. This is your house.”

To my surprise, he looks irritated by my comment.

His jaw tightens. “This’ll be our house. The sooner you accept that, the better. And I’d rather not have to repaint when you finally realize you don’t like something I chose. Besides, I like everything you’ve already chosen, so it’s a win-win.”

I try to be annoyed, but I can’t wipe this stupid smile off my face. “Fine.” I point to the rumba orange. “This one.”

He chuckles, pulling down the other paint samples and marking down ‘master bath’ on the orange. I follow him out through the master bedroom and across the hall to one of the spare rooms where there are easily over a hundred different paint samples taped up—all girly pinks and purples and a few neutral tones.

Tears threaten at the very sight.

Duke turns to me with a grin. “Like I said, I don’t want to have to repaint.”

Why does he have to make it so hard to be mad at him for longer than five minutes?

He’s too good to be true.

He chuckles when I start to cry. “These pregnancy hormones are really gettin’ to you today, aren’t they?”

I stifle a laugh, dabbing my eyes. “You have no idea.”

“And that marks the end of today’s class,” the instructor of the birthing class announces. “Thank you everyone for coming, and I wish you all a smooth delivery ending in a healthy mommy and baby.”

Sitting between Duke’s legs on a yoga mat, I lean into him, sighing as he wraps his arms around me from behind. He rubs my seven-and-a-half-month bump. “Thirty weeks down, ten more to go,” he whispers, kissing my temple.

Cassidy groans, rolling on her side. “Butch,” she whines. “Help me.”

He chuckles, helping her to her swollen feet. “Ready to go eat, Sunshine?”

She glares at her fiancé. “That’s all I ever do is eat. Your damn son is turning me into a garbage disposal. I’m already bigger than Maci by a long shot.”

“You’re not that big, Cass,” I say.

“The hell I’m not,” she retorts. “I’m measuring four weeks ahead, Maci. Four. That’s a whole month ahead of you. And you’re like what, measuring a little behind?”

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