Page 137 of Beautiful Secrets
I shrug, all nonchalant, and make a point of missing her response as I open the fridge.
Why do I have the feeling a shoe is about to hit my back?
Thankfully, it doesn’t—I’m still not sure if I should be spanking a pregnant woman.
“We should celebrate,” I say airily, as if the thought only just occurred to me. Fuck knows if she buys it—when I bring her the drink, she’s watching me with a curiously deadpan expression.
“Celebrate?”
“Yeah. Go see a movie or something.” I put out a hand, gingerly brushing my fingertips over Mika’s round belly. “There’s a new Bruce Willis one out.”
She shifts a little—like a skittish horse that’s not quite settled itself to a new rider.
I don’t push anything when it comes to the baby. Mika gets incredibly agitated when I bring it up, and veers the conversation away as soon as she can. All I know is that she’s giving birth in about five months, and she’s still deciding on a name.
But hell, it’s been close to a week since I’ve seen her, so maybe I’ll get more info today.
Or tomorrow.
Or the day thereafter.
I feel giddy myself, knowing I’ll be waking up with her every morning.
Not in the same bed. There’s a spare room with a single bed—Mika insisted on it. I guess she’s more on the “friends” side of this relationship than on the “benefits,” but I went along with it.
So I’m not quite sure what will happen if she says no.
Honestly, the thought has barely crossed my mind. Whenever it does, I shove it away.
Like now.
Because I have much, much more pleasant things to think about than rejection.
“A movie sounds fun,” Mika shrugs, grinning around her drink as she takes a swig.
“Perfect. I’ll check the showtimes.” I pull out my phone and head over to the couch. I make it seem like I’ve forgotten she even exists, despite how ludicrous that would be.
Mika has been a permanent fixture in my mind since the day we met.
Creepily so.
I think I have a new addiction.
But this is one I have absolutely zero interest in giving up.
Even when I’m not looking at her, I see her in my mind’s eye. Her pale hair, her blue eyes. Her perfect, rosy mouth.
I don’t want to see it in my mind’s eye anymore.
I want to see her in real life.
All day.
Every day.
I barely stop myself from touching the ring box again.
Tonight.
