Page 127 of Rule Breakers Fall Hardest

“Thanks.” I give her a grateful smile, dropping the bags to the floor in the foyer.

She shuts the door quietly, turns the lock with asnick, and snatches the baby from me, burying her face in his neck.

“I missed you.” She smacks a loud kiss on his cheek. “Were you good for your daddy?”

My stomach flops around like a fish out of water at the sight in front of me.

Then I’m hit with a vision of Sammy in a few years, with more kids running around. Ones with dark hair and Rosie’s attitude, and fuck,I want it.

But does she want it too?

Does she wantme?

I rub at my sternum, easing the ache there. I’ve been too scared to talk to her about the future or my growing feelings. I’m too damn terrified of the possibility of her not wanting the same.

But we let a miscommunication tear us apart once, and it took years to find our way back to one another. There’s no way I’ll let that happen again, so that means I have to be honest about my feelings.

And soon.

“Is he hungry?” she asks, already heading for the kitchen.

I follow behind, taking a moment to appreciate how well her jeans hug her ass.

“He’s probably getting there.”

Sammy’s just starting to eat solids, but he’s not completely sold on them yet. I wouldn’t be either if I had to eat mushed up peas and sweet potatoes. He devours the fruity ones, though, especially bananas.

Rosie straps him into the highchair. The second highchair we’ve purchased since bringing him home on Christmas day. He hated the first one, flailed and kicked and cried every time we put him in it, and I’m learning that I’ll do just about anything to make sure my little guy is happy.

“I just got home, so burgers and fries are still in the bag.” She gestures to the greasy takeout bag on the counter. “Can you plate everything up?”

“No problem.”

She wheels the highchair over to the table, and Sammychills there while she gathers the half-eaten jars of baby food from the fridge.

I grab two plates from the cabinet, and as I open the brown bag, the smell of cheese and salty fries hits me. The temptation to grab a fry and pop it into my mouth is impossible to resist.

I groan as the flavor explodes on my tongue. Delicious.

Beside me, Rosie searches through the drawer for the baby spoons.

“Dishwasher,” I say. “I ran them through this morning.”

“You’re a saint.” She opens up the dishwasher and plucks one out.

Sammy, suddenly impatient, lets out a wail and bangs his chubby fists against the tray.

Hands full, Rosie shuffles over to the table. I can’t help but watch her, amazed by how natural this feels. As she’s taking lids off jars, I realize she’s forgotten the bib. They’re one of several necessities we failed to purchase before Sammy came to live with us, but it only took a matter of days to discover just how much we needed them.

Swiping one from the drawer, I take it over and fit it around Sammy’s neck.

“Oh, thank you.” Rosie peers up at me, her eyes bright. “I forgot.”

“I got you. We’re a team.” As if it’s the most natural thing in the world, I kiss the top of her head.

The scent of her shampoo sends a comforting warmth through me. I’m a fucking goner.

In response, she gives me a confused smile. I don’t blame her. I never knew I had it in me to be this affectionate. But here I am, and I wouldn’t change it.

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