Page 46 of Pack Plus Three

Daisy

Placing my meager bag of belongings on the bed, I looked around the room. What the hell had happened? That morning, I’d woken up in my apartment—my dirty, decrepit, disgusting apartment—and now I was going to bed in possibly one of the most beautiful rooms I had ever seen.

The furniture was more expensive than anything I'd ever owned. The bed had plenty of blankets and pillows thrown on top of it. That wasn't the focal point of the room, though. Every wall had beautiful arched windows full of intricate and colorful stained glass. When light filtered through the windows, it turned the furniture and bedding a riot of colors. It was almost ethereal in nature. There were also several potted plants on various surfaces.

Was I supposed to water those? I didn't exactly have a green thumb. My previous attempts to keep a plant alive had been unsuccessful. Then again, if there was ever a time to learn, it was now. I was going to have a real, screaming human baby in a few short months. If I couldn't keep a plant alive, how the hell was I going to keep a human alive?

Pulling back the bedding, I took a moment to appreciate the intricately carved headboard. It looked handmade, with several pieces of ivy and foliage carved into the light-colored wood. Either this had been a very expensive purchase, or Jeremy or Devon had made it. They had both mentioned that they liked working with wood—but as I ran my hand gently over the pattern, I marveled at just how beautiful a creation it was.

And I was going to be staying here, sleeping in such a gorgeous room. The sun was just starting to set, and the late-evening light was staining the room a multitude of colors.

I could just lie in bed all day and stare at the light as it shone through those windows. Before I changed into my pajamas, I scooped up my phone and did a quick internet search. If I enjoyed the stained-glass windows so much, I was sure a baby would love the bright colors. Unfortunately, I couldn't find a mobile with stained glass in it. Though there were some plastic versions, they looked glaringly fake.

The phone screen flashed. I had two missed calls. Cole. Why had he tried to call me? He didn’t leave a voicemail, and I had no intention of calling him back. If he had something important to say, he could leave a message. If we spoke on the phone, I knew there was a good chance that I would get ensnared in his web again.

I couldn't do that—to myself or to my baby.

Sighing to myself, I threw the phone down and grabbed my pajamas before padding into the bathroom. If I wanted bright, colorful lights from stained-glass windows for my baby, I would just have to find a way, someday. Probably when I was a millionaire...which was unlikely to happen.

Unless their father decided to come back into the picture and treat his child with some dignity and respect. He had plenty of money to throw around; he just didn't want to use it on his child. Sometimes I wondered what I’d ever seen in that man. But as much as I wanted to curse his name, I couldn't say I regretted my choice to keep my baby. The little parasite and I were going to be a family. I was going to love this baby with everything I had.

Something about the missed calls didn't sit right with me, and they weighed on my mind as I started the shower. He hadn't bothered to contact me in a week. Then, by some chance of fate, he decided to call me not once, but twice on the same day my apartment was broken into? What were the chances of that?

God, I wanted a glass of wine.

But seeing as I was being a responsible mother, I hadn't had a glass of wine since the day I found out I was pregnant. The moment I stopped breastfeeding, I planned to treat myself to a bottle of wine and a gigantic platter of sushi.

I would give Jeremy Monroe one thing—he had excellent taste in showers. Somehow, this shower was even better than the one in the apartment, which I hadn’t thought was possible. I'd been prepared to write a love letter to the shower at the apartment.

The floor tile was a type of stone that didn't feel ultra smooth or slippery. And there were several different places where the water could come from. You just had to flick a lever. There was also a handheld showerhead with glorious water pressure.

What cinched it for me, though, was the thick stone bench carved into the wall. There was plenty of room for me to sit down and take a breather while showering. Usually, I hurried through my shower routine because I got fatigued so quickly, thanks to the little parasite. The prospects of being able to rest in the shower while still feeling that magical water pressure was downright titillating.

After what was probably a ridiculously long shower, I pulled myself away from the glorious steam and used one of the ultra-fluffy towels before getting into my pajamas.

They were nothing fancy, but they were what had survived the break-in. My usual black shorts and a gigantic sweatshirt that I had found in a thrift shop years ago. I had no idea what fabric the sweatshirt was made out of, but it was so soft and comfortable. And over time, it had only got softer, instead of getting stiff or scratchy after too many washes to count. It got better with age...

Like fine wine.

Or silver foxes.

Back in the bedroom, now freshly clean, with my hair scraped into a tight bun on my head, I took in the room again. There were no discernible scents, so I didn't think the room had been used by anyone before me. I appreciated that, but part of me thought it was a shame. These rooms were clearly designed for an omega—for Jeremy's future omega.

Would they be able to clean everything enough to remove my scent? We could be really picky about scents, especially in our own spaces. The last thing I wanted was to upset their future omega because the guys had decided to be nice and let me stay for a few nights.

“Hey, I see you've already showered,” Jeremy said from the doorway.

Turning to him with a smile, I took a deep breath, welcoming that warm, woodsy smell that had been driving me insane. He was holding something huge that kind of resembled a pillow.

“I want to marry that shower,” I admitted. “I would have taken a bath, but I was scared I wouldn't be able to get out.” I laughed, looking down at my bump.

“Take a bath next time. I'll help you get out,” he offered.

“I—”

“It'll be good for your back pain.” Jeremy grinned. “Plus, we have so many fancy bath products here. Don't let him know I told you this, but Nate is a bit of a bath bomb aficionado.”

Nate? He was the last person I would have expected to have a love of bath bombs.

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