Page 129 of A Bossy Roommate

He leads me down the hall, his hand tightly clutching mine. It’s still unbelievable how everything has changed, not just in my life but between Carter and me. When we had first got together, he’d barely had time for anything but work. He’d been settled into this neat routine he had carved for himself and was too stubborn to let anyone interrupt it. Now, it’s the opposite. Now, he’s the one starting over, the one branching out, taking risks to prove himself.

It’s enough to make me chuckle to myself.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, pausing in the bedroom to step out of his sneakers.

“I’m just remembering what it was like when I first came to New York, how I didn’t know a soul and was trying to make my own way. And now, here we are?—”

“Dum. Dum. Dum. The tables have turned,” Carter says. “I hadn’t thought of it that way, but you’re right. It is crazy. And, in a few more months, we’ll both be starting something new.”

He reaches down to lay his hands on my round belly. The baby moves excitedly. She always does as soon as he touches my stomach, like she knows her dad is close. I smile and lay my hands over his.

“I know. I still can’t believe it,” I confess.

Carter draws me close, reaching out to lay his hand on my cheek. “Well, believe it, Mrs. Bancroft. Every single day I’m like, ‘Whoa, I’m on this insane rollercoaster with this wild and drop-dead gorgeous chick.’”

“Looks like you’ve got front-row seats to the adventure of a lifetime!” I lean in to kiss him. When we draw back, I give him a smoldering look. “Now, how about that shower?”

We strip down and slip into the large shower together. A few verses into my rendition of the small-town girl’s tale in “Don’t Stop Believin’” by Journey, Carter starts humming along with me (his adorable off-key version), before he pulls me close. Sporting the cutest smirk, he kisses me under the spray of the hot water and runs his hands down my hips, which Carter is always excited about. The moment I felt even slightly self-conscious about my changing body, he was right there to smooth away all my fears.

Along with physical changes, the emotional ones are a damn rollercoaster. One afternoon I cried because our mail was late, and then laughed at how bewildered Carter was, only to cry again that I was making him confused with my craziness. Another time, me and the girls went out to our usual lunch place, and I had the sudden craving for something sweet and started crying because they were out of those amazing NYC cronuts. As if it wasn’t simple enough to waddle those five extra minutes to the next bakery (Gretchen still won’t let me live that one down,though she did make the heroic trek for me, bless her heart). And no, I never spilled the beans that I had my suspicions about her being in cahoots with Huxley. I’ve got to keep a tiny shred of pride intact, after all.

Speaking of work: I love having Carter work from home and me assisting him. No more late nights or coming and going at separate times. He’s already transformed the guest suite into a nursery, which was a project he was adamant about undertaking on his own.

I’ve never really had an eye for that sort of thing, and he was so excited about it that I let him handle the arrangements. He’d picked everything, from the colors of the walls and carpet to what furniture and decorations to use. Ever the pro, he had gone through tons of samples and mockups before deciding. He kept saying he wanted it to be right for his little girl, and it made my heart explode.

Before heading out, I go to the guest suite and stand in the doorway. No matter how different it looks now, I can still see myself there, sitting on that bed, worried and nervous about sharing a space with my jerky boss. I’d had no idea what was in store for me, what amazing changes awaited.

It all seems like centuries ago.

38

EDEN

His handsome smiling face hovers above mine, tears in his eyes as the nurse places our daughter on my chest.

I barely remember the labor—that’s what I try to tell myself. At a certain point, your body goes into autopilot, and you lose focus of everything.

“I don’t care, just give mesomething!” I hissed between contractions. They gave me a shot of painkillers. Thank God for that. By the time my doctor came in, I’d already started pushing.

Our daughter was delivered safely, and that’s all that matters.

“Baby, she’s beautiful.” Carter kisses my sweaty forehead and reaches out to lay his hand on our baby’s back.

She’s gorgeous, even with her scrunched up, annoyed expression. Like she’s pissed we’ve interrupted her sleep. Actually, she looks exactly like Carter when she does that, and it makes me laugh through my happy tears. When I tell Carter my observation, he laughs out so loud I think the whole hospital hears him.

“That’s my girl,” he rumbles, looking at her, prouder than a bean stick.

After we’re both cleaned up and settled in our recovery room, Carter pulls a chair over and sits as close as he can.

“Do you want to hold her?” I ask.

He nods, his eyes wide like a deer in the headlights. It’s so rare for him to be out of his element that my heart, which is already a puddle of goo, melts even more. I put the baby in his arms, showing him how to properly support her head.

Seeing them together takes my breath away.

If I hadn’t witnessed it for myself, I would have had a hard time believing the man sitting there making cooing noises at our baby is the same grouchy man I met at that ice cream shop nearly a year ago. The same man who’d sworn up and down he’d never have kids and yet, had been ecstatic when he’d learned I was pregnant.

“You can relax, babe,” I say with a chuckle, reaching out to rub his shoulder. “She’s not made of glass. You aren’t going to break her.”

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