Page 37 of Toxic Salvation
He adds stock to the risotto and stirs with ease while I try not to stare at the way his forearms flex. I tell myself my reaction is purely about the food.
“Her room is gorgeous,” I say, eager for any distraction. “And the peonies… those are her absolute favorites.”
“I wanted her to feel welcome here.”
“What was in that note you left on her nightstand?”
He flashes me a grin. “She didn’t share?”
I try not to look annoyed. “No.”
“Then neither will I.”
“What? Come on, Kovan!”
His grin widens. “If Annabelle wants to keep our correspondence private, I respect that.” He extends the wooden spoon toward me. “Taste this. Careful—it’s hot.”
First, he’s cooking for my mother. Now, he’s feeding me? My ovaries might actually explode.
I turn my face away. “I’m terrible at tasting things. Ask Waylen instead.”
He rolls his eyes and tastes it himself. “Needs more salt.” He seasons the risotto with the confidence of a professional chef. “Where’s Luka?”
“In Mom’s room. They’re playing Scrabble.”
“She needs rest. Did you tell her to ask him to leave when she gets tired?”
“I tried. She kicked me out the second I suggested it. I think she’s enjoying being a grandmother.” The moment the words leave my mouth, I realize what I’ve said. “Not that she’s actually his grandmother or anything. I didn’t mean to imply?—”
“Relax, Vesper. I understand what you meant.”
“Good, because I wouldn’t want you to think I was presuming anything.”Stop talking. Stop talking.“I mean, I didn’t even want you to know about the baby in the first place.”
He drops the spoon with a clatter.
Yep, I should have stopped talking.
“Yes,” he says coldly. “You’ve made that abundantly clear.”
On any other day, I’d be satisfied to have rattled him. But today, he’s gone out of his way to welcome my mother into his home. He’s given her the most beautiful guest room, hired a private nurse for her care, handed me a credit card for any medical expenses she might need.
For someone who supposedly wanted nothing to do with me, he’s certainly working hard to weave me into his life.
No wonder the butterflies in my stomach have staged a full resurrection.
No wonder every time I look at him, I feel that same desperate need that got me pregnant in the first place.
Waylen’s right to worry about me. I’m pathetically weak.
But thanks to my brother’s warning, I keep picturing some gorgeous blonde that Kovan will inevitably bring home to meet our son. She’ll be everything I’m not: uncomplicated, unburdened by moral conflict, someone who can love him without reservation.
But I’m married to my career, right? I shouldn’t care. Idon’tcare.
“Everything okay?” Kovan asks. “You look troubled.”
“I’m fine.”
He turns off the burner and moves closer. Too close. “I know you’re worried about your mother, but I’m going to do everything possible to help her.”
