Page 60 of Rockstar's Accidental Marriage

Taking hers, I pull her onto her feet but don’t stop until she’s snug in my arms. Giving her a wicked look, I murmur, “Did you know that sex helps with morning sickness?”

“It does not,” she says, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

“Google it if you don’t believe me,” I state innocently. “Semen sometimes helps to reduce the symptoms of morning sickness.”

She pulls out her phone, and I watch as she taps away. Then she reads out loud. “There's no medical evidence that semen helps reduce morning sickness symptoms, but some theories suggest it might.” She quirks an eyebrow at me.

“Keep reading,” I say with a smirk.

Her eyes dart back to her phone as she scrolls down. “One theory is that semen can help the mother’s body develop a tolerance to paternal DNA, which could reduce nausea and vomiting.”

“See?” I slowly advance toward her. “I think it’s worth considering.”

Her lips twitch as she tries not to smile.

Taking her in my arms, I tilt her face upwards. “Want to give it a try?”

“In the interest of science. I’m willing to give it a try,” she says in a lofty voice.

“That’s my girl.” I pick her petite frame up in my arms and then look around.

“Sam?” She questions me.

“I suggested we christen every room in the new house,” I remind her with a grin. “Last time, it was the dining room. I want to make our last night here count.”

“There’s three bedrooms upstairs,” she says as her eyes darken with a mix of desire and amusement.

Carrying her up the stairs, I pass our master bedroom and continue to the last guest room. The door is open, and inside is a set of bunk beds.

We both laugh.

“I’m headed to our room. We’ll be in cramped quarters soon enough on the tour bus,” I suggest. Once in the master bedroom, I place her in the middle of our king-sized bed.

I proceed to make slow, sweet love to her, and afterward, I gently pull her into my arms.

“I’m going to miss our bed, our bedroom—the whole damn house,” I state in a low voice.

Emily nods. “I guess it was foolish to want so many plants,” she says on a wistful note.

“Nonsense,” I tell her firmly, "We're paying for a weekly check-in to ensure the house is safe and sound while we’re away. It's not just about watering the plants. It's about peace of mind.”

“I’m going to miss our long walks on the beach,” Emily sighs as she snuggles closer.

“We’ll be back, Em. This life we’re building,” I say gently, “It’s not going anywhere. The beach, this house—it will all be here waiting for us to return.”

But even as I say the words, I wonder what our future holds. Our time here has felt more like a sanctuary, and life on the road isn’t all sunshine and roses. But at least we’ll have each other to rely on.

Nineteen

Emily

The morning dawns bright and clear. It’s the kind of peaceful, perfect day that makes leaving this house even harder. I roll out of bed slowly, my body grateful for the rare morning free of nausea. For a moment, I consider waking Sam to share the good news but decide against it. He’s already smug enough about how he’s ‘helping me’ avoid morning sickness.

After a quick shower, I tiptoe downstairs, letting Sam sleep a little longer. The quiet feels sacred as I move through the kitchen, starting his coffee and brewing myself some herbal tea. The blueberry muffins we picked up from a local bakery sit neatly in their box, a small comfort amid the disorder of leaving our home.

I double-check the fridge, ensuring nothing perishable remains. It’s almost empty, save for condiments. Satisfied, I close the door just as Sam shuffles into the kitchen, his hair irresistibly rumpled, his eyes still heavy with sleep.

“Morning,” he mumbles, rubbing a hand over his face.

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