Page 77 of Mismatched

“Anton—” I look at his face, at the soft light in his eyes. “Thank you.”

“Try it on,” he says gently.

I turn away. In part, because I’m self-conscious about how I look. But also because lately my nipples seem to have a mind of their own in front of him. I had no idea it was possible to feel ridiculous and horny at the same time, but here I am. Before I can get distracted, I drop the robe and slip the new top over my head.

I step in front of the mirror on the back of our closet door and suck in a breath. It’s a pretty V-neck, gathered in a twist below the bust. I’m not sure if it’s the empire cut, or just the way the fabric drapes in front, but it’s actually really flattering and draws attention away from my inflated boobs. Unfortunately, it seems to do this by accentuating my growing belly.

Anton’s eyes dance over my shape, and I have to look away. He is clearly thrilled about the changes. “Wow,” he says. “You look really... preggers.”

I turn, leveling him with a dead-eyed stare. “Please don’t ever use that word to describe me again.”

He gives me a sheepish smile and scratches the back of his head. “Noted.”

“I—I can’t wear this,” I say, turning back to the mirror. “I mean, it’s beautiful, thank you.” I blush. “But...”

“But what?” he says, snaking his arms around my waist. For a hot second, I get excited, thinking he’s going to touch me—really touch me. My nipples are so hard, they’re showing through the fabric. Instead, he tenderly embraces my belly in the reflection. “You look beautiful. You are beautiful. You’re going to be a wonderful mother.”

Bile rises in my throat. Or maybe it’s just heartburn. I bite my lip and look away. I had been thinking I couldn’t wear the top because it makes me look too pregnant. I keep forgetting that’s the whole point of this trip.

“It was really thoughtful, thank you.” I lean up to kiss his cheek, hoping to encourage his hands to wander elsewhere. I lean my head against his shoulder. “If only we were going on vacation. And not to see my family.”

“Don’t forget I booked us a hotel,” he whispers in my ear.

“Now there’s something to give thanks for,” I say with genuine relief.

Anton grins in the mirror, and now I’m sure he’s going to turn me in his arms, smother all my doubts with his lips. I feel like a fire that needs to be put out; just the pressure of his hands feels amazing. I want them to drift from my belly to my new, enormous tits. Pull my top off and suck the ache out of each nipple. Help me settle the throb that’s been humming between my legs. I’ve never wanted Anton so badly. Not without him waking my body up first. I’m still a little embarrassed about it, honestly. I should just reach for him, that’s what our therapist would say to do. Just touch him myself, help get things started. But as I stare at his hands on my rounded body in the reflection, his scent filling my senses, I just need him to reach for me first. Show me he wants me... like this.

Our eyes meet in the mirror, and for a moment his gaze darkens, his grip tightens, and I know he does. I glance at the bed behind us, waiting for him to toss the suitcase and everything else to the floor because we are both feeling this. It’s what we both need.

But then he withdraws his hands from my body and lays a chaste kiss in my hair.

“We’d better finish packing and get some sleep,” he says. “We need to be at the airport by five.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

“What do you mean the hotel is overbooked?” I glare at the white, balding man behind the front desk of the Westin Cincinnati.

“I’m terribly sorry, sir. This happens sometimes on extremely busy weekends. The system is supposed to leave room for cancellations, but...” He swallows. “It appears everyone has actually checked in.”

I glance at Lydia beside me, bundled in my old CU sweatshirt, looking exhausted and overwhelmed. It was more of an ordeal than we expected getting through the Denver airport early this morning, making it onto the flight, and actually finding our rental car once we arrived in Cincinnati. She looks like she’s ready to head out the door and walk back to Denver.

“Look, surely there’s got to be something? A tiny, cheap room no one wants? An overpriced presidential suite? Or can you call an affiliate hotel and find us something?”

The man adjusts his glasses and turns to his computer. “It’s Thanksgiving Day with the Bengals playing, sir. But I can check around.”

Lydia’s phone lights up with a call from her sister and we exchange a look. We were supposed to be at Celia’s half an hour ago.

I squeeze her hand. “Don’t worry. We’ll find something.”

She gives me a pleading look, then steps away to take the call. As soon as her mother gets wind of the situation, she’ll insist we stay with her. Which will be so much worse than if we’d just agreed to that in the first place. Marion loves nothing more than being put in a position of influence. She’ll spend the next two days invading Lydia’s space and making her feel like she should thank her for the lodging.

And once she realizes Lydia’s pregnant, the narcissism will crank up to a thousand.

I wipe my hand over my face. This is not how I saw the holiday going at all. Before we left Denver, it felt like we held all the cards. We were traveling, staying, and announcing the pregnancy on our terms, the way I’d promised Lydia we would. Now it feels like all that control is slipping through my fingers.

The concierge hangs up his phone with a pained expression. “I’m sorry, Mr. Richie. Our affiliates are all in a similar position.” He adjusts his glasses with a cough. “I’m not supposed to say this, but ah... you could try your luck with Airbnb?”

I glare at the guy. Though I realize he didn’t personally overbook the rooms, that doesn’t make me any less pissed off. But in my head I’m already moving on to the bigger problem, which will be shielding my wife from my mother-in-law.

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