Page 32 of Bullied Pregnant Mate

I frowned at him. "Maybe you're religious, and you might go somewhere else. I don't know if you are or aren't."

"I'm not," he said, simply taking a rag and wiping at the counter.

I smirked. "Then maybe you're not, and you'll burst into flames the second you walk in."

He placed the eggs down and crossed his arms, giving me a cocky expression. "You think that was smart to say to the person cooking you eggs?"

I couldn't suppress the smirk as I took a swig of my coffee. And as always, it was perfect. I didn't think anyone made coffee as good as he did.

"So, you don't have a problem with it?"

He shook his head, poured a little oil into the pan, and flicked the stovetop on. I watched the flame spark as he rotated the pan around. The space between us fell silent and calm. It wasn't as awkward as I had thought it would be.

We slept together over two weeks ago, and I worried it would have made things uncomfortable, but it hadn't. Things remained almost normal. Lucas still went to work, and I continued to try to figure out how to live my life.

Lucas came home, and we had dinner every night, discussing the day’s events or the upcoming wedding. I found myself relaxing in this new life, enjoying the time I had with Lucas. And we found ourselves breaking the unwritten rule of not sleeping together. It had happened a couple of times, and each following morning, we acted as if it hadn’t.

But as comfortable as I was, I was waiting for it to all fall apart. It's how my entire life was, so why would this be any different? The other shoe would drop, and I needed to be prepared for when it did.

"I ordered you flowers for the wedding."

I looked away from my phone and stared at him with wide eyes. "You what?"

He shrugged, cracking an egg onto the pan. The sizzle was the only sound as he tossed the eggshell into the trash. "I know all the girls have them, and you hadn't said you ordered any, so…"

I just sat there dumbfounded. Just days ago, I was telling myself I didn't need them. I figured, what was the point if this was all fake? I should just get the basics of things, and the venue was enough money. And he went and purchased them.

"You didn't have to. This is a fake wedding," I said, unsure if I was telling him or myself.

He shrugged again, cracking another egg. "We want it to look real, and if you didn't have flowers, it wouldn't."

Somehow, I didn't quite believe him. There were plenty of people who didn't have flowers, and their marriages lasted—people who went down to the courthouse and got married without flowers. I then thought about the list I had on the coffee table for the wedding and the small notes I wrote down on it. One of them is that flowers would be nice but unnecessary.

I felt my heart flip. He had to have seen the list. It was the only logical part.

"What did you buy?"

"A boutique for yourself and two larger vases to have behind us. It's simple, but it will look nice."

I tightened my hold on the cup, trying not to act like it mattered, but it did. It was one of the nicest someone had done for me. And for something that wasn't even real.

Lucas glanced at me and stiffened. "Are you crying?"

"No," I said, but my voice cracked, and I rolled my eyes. Of course, my body would give it away. I sniffled, and he frowned.

"I can call them back and cancel it if you're so upset."

"That's…" I shook my head. "I'm just shocked, is all."

He tilted his head. "Why?"

Because no one had ever bought me flowers, no one had ever put my feelings first. Everyone always thought of me last or not at all, and he went and bought me flowers just because.

"Because it's a nice gesture," I said instead.

Because you make it hard to hate you. You make it hard to remember why being around you was a bad idea, and while this entire plan was going to blow up in my face. It had to. At one point, everything was going to come crashing down, and I needed to be prepared for it.

"I'm going to shower quickly," I said, practically running from the room to the bathroom to clear my head and pull myself back together.

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