She knows exactly why I’m running in the gym rather than on the streets of London. “I fancied a change.”
She hums, thoughtful. But she doesn’t challenge me. “I don’t remember falling asleep.”
I do. I watched her eyes get heavier, felt her breathing change, and studied intently as she drifted off. “You went out like a light. I was happy to have you tucked into my side, so I let you be. You’re sleeping for England, baby.”
“What time is it?” she asks on a yawn, arms up, her torso becoming taut. My eyes cross. My dick yells and throbs.
“Morning!” Cathy’s voice drifts into the gym, and Ava springs up from the bench.
“I’m naked!”
“So you are.” Gloriously naked. I get off the machine and rub the towel through my hair. “Whatever will Cathy think?”
She whips the towel from my hand and assesses the small rectangle on a worried frown.
“I don’t think that’ll quite cover it.”
“Help me,” she whispers.
“Come here.” I smile and open my arms, and she’s attached to my front in a second, hiding in my neck. How long will it be before her stomach stops her arms from circling my neck?
I go to the door and look out, hearing Cathy in the kitchen. I call her to confirm it before nipping out and taking my naked, pregnant wife back upstairs. Those three words.
Naked. Pregnant. Wife.
My smile widens as I put her down and steal a kiss.
“What time is it?” she asks.
“Ten to eight.” I nibble my lip, waiting for her to yell at me, although, to be fair, I lost track of time on the running machine this morning. But I can’t say I would have woken her had I not lost track of time.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” she moans as she disappears into the bathroom.
“You needed to sleep.” It looks like it’s back to work for Ava and back to killing time for me.
“Not for fifteen hours,” she calls from the bathroom. I hear the shower start raining water and go to join her.
“You obviously do need it,” I grumble, kicking off my trainers as Ava works at lightning speed, washing her hair and body and stepping out before my shorts hit the floor. Well, that’s me redundant this morning. I follow her path past me, sighing as I get in the shower and take my time washing. “Fucking hate weekdays,” I mumble, squeezing some shower gel into my palm and rubbing it everywhere. “She should be taking it easy. Sleeping. Eating.” I rinse and step out, hearing the sound of her hairdryer. I brush my teeth, continuing to mumble my displeasure around my mouthful of paste. Maybe I can convince her to join me for lunch after my meeting with Owen Cutler.
As I walk into the bedroom, Ava’s on her way out. Fuck me, she’s moving fast this morning. I dress, squirt on some cologne, quickly pick a tie, and head downstairs, grabbing our keys off the table by the front door and pocketing them.
“I’ll grab something at work,” Ava says as I enter the kitchen.
“You’ll eat,” I retort firmly. She spins around, probably ready to argue with me, but she stumbles over her words, her delighted eyes taking me in as I fasten my tie. “She’ll have a bagel, Cathy.” I put Ava on a stool. I don’t care if she’s late, she’s having breakfast. It’s non-negotiable. “With eggs.” Wait. Eggs? I saw them on a list of foods to avoid during my marathon trawl of the internet. “Actually, no eggs.”
Ava snorts and slips off the stool, getting her bag on her shoulder. “Cathy, thank you,” she says, directing a reproachful look my way. What did I do? “But I’ll eat at work.” She walks out, leaving me in the kitchen wondering what the fuck happened to the negotiations?
I blink, feeling Cathy looking at me. “She’s pregnant,” I say quietly.
Cathy gasps, and a second later she’s got her hands over her face, her eyes wide. “Oh, Jesse.”
I smile mildly. “We’re thrilled,” I say, seeing she’s unsure how to react. Although you’d never know we’re thrilled.
“Oh, how wonderful!”
The front door slams. What the fuck has gotten into her? It’s the outside world. It doesn’t agree with her. She goes from passive and obedient at home to a fucking nightmare in a heartbeat on the outside world.
“I’ll see you later.” I go after Ava and swing the door open, finding her by the elevator hitting the call button like she hates it. I widen my stance and slip my hands into my pockets, confused by this unexplained outburst. Will pregnancy bring on more sass, because we definitely don’t need that?