Page 44 of Her Impossible Boss's Baby

He picked it up, and put a coaster beneath it, but didn’t scold her. “Rest,” he said. “I will be here when you wake.”

When she did wake an hour or so later, it occurred to her that it was a singular thing for him to promise. He should be at work today. He didn’t go.

The next morning when she woke unwell, he didn’t go to work either. Or the next day, or the next. It was a complete and total rearranging of his routine and no one had ever, not once, disrupted their life on her behalf. She didn’t know what to make of it. Only that it made her sore right at the center of her chest.

She crept into the kitchen to find Luca cooking. As if he didn’t have a full staff for such a thing. As if he couldn’t magic something up with the snap of his fingers.

“What are you making?” she asked, hearing how small her voice sounded even in her own ears.

“An omelet. Protein. Vegetables.”

She thought she probably shouldn’t tell him she had no interest in protein or vegetables, and instead wanted cookies all the time. Given that Luca was so very Luca he would probably frown on that.

Processed sugar for his baby? Never.

Except the baby was also hers. So there would be sugar.

The idea of trying to live with this man, compromise with him, raise a child with him, was suddenly daunting.

She sat down at the kitchen island and leaned forward. “I will eat the omelet. And thank you for it. But right now I usually crave sweets in the morning.”

“Unhealthy,” he said.

He was so predictable.

“Be that as it may,” she said. “It’s what I want. And while I’m all for health, happiness is part of health.”

“Not in a practical sense.”

“Actually, yes, Luca. In a practical sense. We aren’t just bodies rattling around the physical world. We’re more than that.” She cleared her throat. “I’d have thought that you’d know that more than anyone. Considering how the order of the world affects your mind. That’s not physical. Not having three notebooks on a plane isn’t necessary for physical health, but you don’t feel right if you don’t have them.”

“And you are trying to make the case that you don’t feel right if you don’t have cakes?”

“Indeed.”

“Hmm.”

“I’ll have the omelet,” she conceded.

“You are welcome.”

“I did thank you,” she pointed out. “But I had the thought we’re probably going to have to discuss the ways we’re different from each other, and the ways that might express itself in our lives and in our...parenting styles.” She cleared her throat, wanting to be careful now. “I am actually not trying to say anything unkind, but you’re a very particular man.”

“That isn’t unkind. It’s true.”

“Yes, but I used the truth to be hurtful the other day and I’m sorry for it. So I’m trying to prove I’m not out here using elements of what’s honest as a sword. I’m just trying to look ahead.”

“All right, tell me what you’re thinking.”

He put the omelet in front of her and her stomach growled. “I don’t always eat healthy. I like sweets.”

“I like sweets,” he said.

She narrowed her eyes. “I have never seen you eat sweets.”

“Everything in moderation.”

“Well, I’m going to eat them. And I don’t want to overwhelm a child with data on what every medical journal the world over says about diet.”

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