Page 69 of The Billionaire's Most Unexpected Triplets

But I don’t want to talk about the legal stuff. I want to know everything about her pregnancy, about her.

“No, it’s okay. I want to hear about it. How are you feeling about the possibility of a cesarean?”

Leah shrugs. “I’m a little nervous, but ultimately I just want my babies to be okay. And if that means a cesarean, then I’m all for it.”

I nod, trying to imagine what she must be going through but falling short. Being there at the ultrasound was so amazing, but I doubt she wants me anywhere close when the babies are being born, so I won’t even ask.

Leah turns back to the stove, stirring the bubbling broth. “Would you like a drink? I have some wine open.”

I nod, grateful for the distraction. “Sure, thanks.”

She pours me a glass and hands it to me. As I take a sip, I watch her move around the kitchen with ease. It’s like she was born to cook and take care of a home.

It’s not something I’ve ever been interested in, but seeing her do it, it’s… sexy. I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be together like this on other nights, chatting and cooking in the kitchen.

I shouldn’t be thinking this way, but I can’t seem to help myself. My thoughts keep wandering back to her, to us. To what it would be like to have her in my bed again.

“What can I help with?” I ask, trying to steer the conversation away from dangerous territory. “Is there anything I can chop? Stir? Sauté?”

She grins. “It’s pretty much done.”

“I’ll set the table.” I put the wine down, determined to not sit on my hands while a pregnant woman does all the work.

As we sit down at the dining room table, I offer her a glass of water. “Thank you,” she says softly, her fingers brushing against mine as she takes it from me.

A shiver runs down my spine at her touch. It’s been months since we were together, but the attraction between us is still as strong as ever. And now, with the added bonus of her pregnancy, it’s like a whole new level of desire has been unlocked.

I turn my gaze to the meal she’s placed in front of me. Roast chicken with gravy. A medley of veggies. Mashed sweet potatoes. It seems like a simple meal, but I can already tell it will be anything but.

And I’m correct. Every bite explodes with complex flavors that, somehow, work perfectly together.

“Damn.” I have to speak around my food. I can’t stop shoveling it into my mouth. “This is amazing.”

She laughs in a way that says she enjoys the compliment.

“I mean it.” I shake my head. “I’ve never had a home-cooked meal this good.”

Her hand moves to her belly, rubbing gently. “I’m glad you like it. I’ve been craving these flavors lately, so I thought I’d try them out together.”

I watch her hand, imagining the life growing inside her. It’s incredible to think that we made these babies together. That they are a part of both of us. Even if I never meet them, it will always be that way.

We eat in silence for a minute, and I wonder if she’s feeling as weird as I am but in her own way. Does she regret inviting me to dinner? I get the impression that it was a whim or maybe that she didn’t expect me to say yes.

“I was looking at GourmetGlobal reviews today,” she starts, and just like that we’re back to talking about work.

And it’s good. It’s a safe topic, something that’s familiar.

For the rest of the meal, we discuss the app — where it’s at, our hopes for it. With Leah, someone who loves her job with every fiber of her being, it feels more like we’re talking about the most exciting hobby in the world.

The meal passes too quickly. Our plates cleaned, I put them into a stack. “I’ll load the dishwasher.”

“Thank you.” She lets out a soft groan as she stands.

“How are you feeling?” I know I just asked her the same thing a little while ago, but it’s like I can’t hold my tongue. I need to know she’s okay. Need to make her so.

She shrugs. “My back aches, but not as much as my feet.” She laughs. “They’re so swollen I had to get new shoes.”

I wince, hating this. “How about a foot massage?”

---