Page 127 of Sing Your Secrets

“Why do you say that?”

“I’m a club owner and an R&B producer. Bedtime is three a.m., I sleep until noon, and I happen to think Red Bull and saltine crackers are a well-rounded breakfast. How do I fit a baby into that?”

“You’ll be surprised how easy it is to completely change your life—for love. And this is the best kind of love, Reese. You’ll see.” A warm smile claims her face. “I’m surprised you’re not feeling it yet. You’re not nauseous?” She looks around the table of fragrant ingredients.

Now that she mentions it… I hold out my hand and teeter my thumb and pinky. “Kinda I thi—”

“Are you feeling sick, baby?”

I nearly swallow my tongue as Miles sneaks up behind us. “No.” I glare at Mom before spinning around to face my husband. “Not at all.”

He holds out his apron to me and turns around so I can fasten it around his waist, then give his ass a little squeeze.

“Your parents are here,” he says, tapping my nose. But Mom walks to the back of the room to find Dad and we effectively switch partners for this class.

“I realize.”

“Don’t grab my ass in front of your parents.”

I cackle. “I’ll grab your ass whenever I please. It was in our vows.”

“I’m certain that was not in our vows.”

I tap my temple. “Pretty sure it was.”

Rolling his eyes, he scours our kitchen setup. “I’ll be honest baby, I like eating Indian food, but I do not think I’ll enjoy cooking it. Seems like a lot of work before dinner,” he says. Looking at the list of ingredients on a laminated sheet at the edge of the table, he grumbles under his breath.

“Where do you think we’d be if you took that deal from Elite?”

“Not at this cooking class.”

“I’m serious. Do you still feel good about everything? Because you’re still driving your beat-to-shit Jeep, we both work twelve-hour days and come home to our little apartment. Do you regret not pursuing that contract and living out your big dreams?”

“I am living out my big dreams.”

I scrunch my nose. “What?”

Miles’s green eyes glimmer under the fluorescent overhead light above our kitchen station. He grabs my hand and runs his fingers over the bumps of my knuckle. “Music is what I love. The Garage is where I like to work. But you are my big dream.” He taps near my belly button. “You both are.”

It takes me a moment to realize I’m busted. My jaw all but hits the floor as my eyes pop open.

He lets out a satisfied laugh, loving the look on my face when I’m caught. “Don’t worry, Reese.” He plants a tender kiss on my forehead. “I’ll act surprised when you finally tell me we’re having a baby.”

“I—”

I’m momentarily cut off by the instructor bursting into the classroom in a tizzy, seeing as he’s a solid fifteen minutes late. “Okay,” he bellows, “Sorry I’m late. Welcome to Introduction to Indian Cuisine. Is anyone familiar with the Indian spice palette?” The instructor makes a racket as he snatches his apron from a standing rack and quickly tries to compose himself in the front of the room.

“How long have you known?” I hiss under my breath.

“Since I found your pregnancy test in the trash last week,” he says back in a forced whisper.

“Why were you going through our bathroom trash?”

“I wasn’t. I saw it when I was taking out the bag. See? You say I don’t do chores—now who looks silly.” His big smile isn’t just because he foiled my sneaky ploy. I think it has to do a lot more with his big dreams getting bigger. “At first I thought I misread the test, but then you stopped drinking.”

Miles offered me an alcoholic drink every single night last week. It suddenly dawns on me he’s been testing me.

“Clever. Are you mad I didn’t tell you right away?”

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