Page 93 of Full House

Nate: The only adventure I want you to have is with me in our bed.

Tori: Can I call you Cap’n? Will you raise your sail and plunder my booty?

Nate: You asking me to fuck you in the ass, again?

Tori: …

He hit speed dial, calling her. It rang once before she answered. “We’re about a block away. Put me on speaker and whatever you do, don’t hang up. I’m already not happy about this. Don’t make me regret I agreed to it.”

“I won’t, I promise. Contrary to our earlier conversation, I really am taking this seriously.”

“Good. And one more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“He’s pulling up to the front of the house.”

“Okay, I’m ready.”

From parked a few doors down, Nate watched Byron get out of the car and walk up to his front door. A few seconds later, he heard the doorbell ring through the phone.

“Punctual as always,” Victoria murmured before he heard the loud clack of her setting the phone down.

The front door was thrown open wide, and he got a brief glimpse of Victoria before the door shut.

“Showtime,” Carter said looking in his rearview mirror.

Nate turned in his seat to see Smith’s car pulling behind them.

They got out of the car—Nate muting his phone so he could hear Victoria, but no sound would come through on her end—and walked over to meet Smith and a uniform cop.

“Mr. Reed,” Smith said with a nod. “And you must be Mr. Carter.”

Carter nodded, holding out his hand.

They all listened closely, waiting for Nate’s cue to go in. Nate’s jaw hardened as he clenched his teeth when he heard Byron coaxing Victoria to drink her coffee.

“He laced it with something. We’re not sure what,” Nate said to Smith.

Smith nodded. “Let’s move closer. Seems as if things are wrapping up.”

Nate left Carter, Smith, and the uniform cop in the drive as he continued to the front door, listening to the conversation and waiting for the right time to go in.

He heard Victoria say, “I think something’s wrong,” and made his move, throwing open the front door and shouting, “Sweetheart, I’m home.”

He entered the living room. Victoria sat on the couch, leaning forward, her arms cradling her stomach. His own stomach dropped. Even knowing she was acting, it was painful to witness. But he was part of the drama now, and they acted out their scene, Byron falling for it hook, line, and sinker.

Nate paced the living room. Pretending he was talking to a nine-one-one operator, he yelled at Smith through his phone and fired off questions at Byron until he heard Victoria moan and he turned to her.

She held out her hand, and when he grasped it, she groaned, “The baby. Something’s wrong with the baby. Nate, please tell them to hurry.”

And that was Smith’s cue to come through the door.

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