Page 6 of Ruthless Roses

My smile widens as he wraps his arms around me and kisses my cheek.

“Sorry I’m late,” he whispers into my ear.

I link our fingers together to let him know it’s alright. It doesn’t matter, because he’s here now.

Jannie spends another perplexed moment seemingly without her tongue before she snaps out of it and says, “Uhh, okay. Let’s pick up where we left off, shall we? Does anyone need help getting going?”

For the next hour, Salvatore and I focus on the techniques being taught. The gossip brigade that suddenly fell mute at his arrival, go the rest of the class without uttering another passive aggressive word. At the end, Jannie wishes everyone a great evening and reminds us to return next Tuesday evening.

Salvatore helps me up. “I was stuck in traffic. Damn rush hour.”

“You should’ve heard the peanut gallery. They had a lot to say,” I tell him. I catch the eye of Marsha Westman in passing and choose pettiness over being the bigger person. Raising my voice like she had done, I say, “They seemed to be very interested in whether you would show up. Some of us live more boring lives than others.”

Marsha makes a sound of offense, then struts off with her abashed-looking husband in tow.

Salvatore grins, sliding his arm around my hips. “Bad girl.”

It’s a growly whisper he speaks into my ear as we head for the exit. Spoken in jest but also with a naughty realism that he very much means.

Stitches waits for us in the hall.

“Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Daddy and Mommy-to-be,” he says. “How’d the class go?”

“Phi almost reduced a pregnant woman to tears.”

My jaw drops. “I did not!”

“She was talking real slick at the mouth just now. You should’ve heard her.”

Stitches nods along. “Oh yeah? That sounds like Mrs. Phi, alright.”

I’m so offended I can’t properly defend myself, though deep down I recognize they’re teasing. They share amused looks escorting me to the car.

We split up in the parking lot. Stitches drives the car we came over in and I join Salvatore in his Audi.

“I have a surprise for you,” he says once we’re buckled in.

“You already surprised me when you walked through the door at Lamaze.”

“I have an even better surprise.”

He refuses to tell me for the rest of the drive home. The tall iron gates part down the middle to allow us passage onto our heavily surveilled, intensely guarded estate.

We haven’t even been living here a year, but it’s been a good place for us. Beside the fact that we’re living in the wealthy suburb outside of Northam, which means dealing with snobs like the women at the Lamaze class, we’ve been able to foster a safe, happy environment.

The huge house feels like our true home in a way the loft never did. It’s the first home Salvatore and I have shared together with the intention of starting a family.

We make it up to our bedroom before I learn what his surprise is. Flush on our king-sized bed is a satin peachy-pink gown. My confusion manifests in the smile and glance I give Salvatore.

“Go ahead and put it on. We’re going out.”

“Tonight?”

He chuckles. “Yes, Phi. Tonight. You’re eight months today.”

…adorable you’re tracking it as closely as I am.

“The clocks winding down,” he says matter-of-factly. “Which means soon we won’t have as much time for date nights.”

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