Page 23 of Claiming His Wife

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It’s almosttime for me to meet Scott and my stomach is roiling with nerves. Not for the first time I look in the mirror, turning from side to side making sure my clothes camouflage my bump. Within the last week or two, my belly has popped out. I’m wearing layers, as long as my shirt doesn’t cling, you can’t really see the curve of my belly. I absolutely don’t want him to know until I have a chance to speak with him first.

The restaurant is packed when I get there, Barry’s is one of the best places for breakfast and brunch in the city, it’s not surprising that the place is busy. I look around the restaurant and have to remind myself to breathe as my eyes fall on Scott for the first time in weeks. He looks tired. Despite the dark circles under his eyes, he is still the hottest man I’ve ever laid my eyes on.

It takes a massive dose of willpower to keep from running straight into his arms and falling into his embrace. I know without a shadow of a doubt he’d wrap his big strong arms around me and hold me close. He’d welcome me with open arms and an open heart. He’d feel my stomach—and that thought is what makes me slide into the bench seat opposite of him instead of throwing myself at him.

Scott opens his mouth to say something, then closes it as if he changed his mind about whatever it was he wanted to say. We sit in semi-awkward silence just taking each other in. Now that I’m here I have no idea how to start. Thankfully, the waitress shows up and breaks the tension.

“What can I getcha to drink?”

“Coffee for both of us, please,” Scott answers and my heart clenches because he doesn’t know that I gave up coffee because of the baby. His baby.

“Actually, can I get apple juice and a water?”

“You betcha. You ready to order or do you need a minute?”

Scott isn’t paying attention; he’s studying me closely as if he’s trying to pinpoint why after all the years he’s known me I’m not ordering the same drink I’ve always ordered when eating breakfast food. I squirm in my seat at his penetrating gaze.

“I’m ready to order… Scott?”

“Oh, yeah. Eggs over-medium, bacon, and pancakes,” he rattles off his usual, and I know that he’s ordered pancakes because I never do even though it’s what I really want. I blink my eyes rapidly, trying to stave off the tears that want to fall. I’ve become a weepy, hormonal mess and I hate it. I’ve cried more in the last several months than I have in the last ten years. It’s ridiculous.

“And you?” The waitress turns to me, pen at the ready on her order pad.

This is another thing that’s going to be different, and Scott is definitely going to notice. Ever since my morning sickness started, I can’t stand the smell or taste of bacon. I’m one of those bacon is life people, so it’s been a real adjustment. Not to mention that I can’t have my favorite dippy eggs. “Hard scrambled eggs, sausage links, and biscuits with gravy, please.”

Scott narrows his eyes at my order. I just shrug like it’s no big thing. The waitress leaves, and I decide it’s time to break the ice.

“Thanks for meeting me…” Okay, so that was the lamest thing I could have said, but it’s a start.

“I’m so glad you reached out. I’ve missed you.” Sincerity rings through in his words, it helps settle something deep inside me.

“I’ve missed you, too. This hasn’t been easy for me,” I admit.

Scott reaches across the table and grabs my hand. I drop the napkin I didn’t realize I was mutilating. Even that small contact is a balm to my soul. It’s just more proof that my entire being yearns for this man and I’ll never be able to live happily without him.

God, please let this conversation go well,I pray.

“I have something important to tell you, and I’m not really sure how to say it.”

Scott tightens his grip on my hand. “You can tell me anything.”

I hope he still feels that way in a couple minutes. Here goes nothing…

Chapter Fourteen

Scott

Mallory’s handis cold and clammy in mine. She’s so obviously nervous about whatever it is she has to tell me, and I want nothing more than to reassure her that she doesn’t need to be anxious. She can tell me anything. I might not like it, but I’m prepared to listen. For the first time in months, she’s actually willing to talk to me. As far as I’m concerned that’s a win no matter the subject matter.

She takes a deep breath and straightens in her seat like she’s shoring up her defenses. What the hell could she have to say? Please don’t let this be her confronting me about the divorce. I don’t think I could handle her telling me it’s over from her own lips. I can almost forget the reality of the situation when it’s just the lawyers talking, but from her, it would make it real, and I’m not ready for that.

And I’m not ready for the words that come out of her mouth either because I’m stunned speechless.

“I’m pregnant.”

I know I’m gaping. I know I’m just staring at her like she’s grown a second head. I know this isn’t the appropriate response. On the outside, it probably looks like I’m freaking out, but on the inside, I’m filled with fierce and all-consuming elation. Mallory is pregnant with my baby; I want nothing more than to strip her down and see all the ways her body has changed to accommodate our baby.

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