Page 142 of Even Exchange

“It’s too big for the pot,” she says, brows furrowed.

I grab a tea towel, twisting it, and gently flick it towards her. “Out of the kitchen.”

“What are you doing?” She giggles, backing away.

“Soffione,” I say, with a teasing grin. “You cannot break pasta in an Italian household. Oranyhousehold. It is against the law!”

“Uh-oh,” she says, moonwalking backwards away from me. “Am I going to have to relocate my Justin Bieber piggy bank again?”

I chase after, scooping her in my arms, and she hugs my neck. Squeezing tightly, I press a kiss into her hair. “Or you could pay in other ways.”

She giggles, nudging me off, and sways back to the stove. “The sauce is going to burn.”

We haven’t been physical since the twins’ party, and I don’t want to pressure her. But it definitely sucks when all I want is to hold her in my arms and she pushes me away.

“I’m serious, Charlotte,” I tease. “That was your first and only warning.”

“Oops.” She pouts. “Wouldn’t want you to have a reason to whip me with the tea towel again.”

Why are women so confusing?

“So how was your day?” I ask, changing the subject.

“Good, yours?” she says, picking up some plain salt and aiming for the boiling pasta. I cringe, quickly plucking it out of her hand, and give her the sea salt. She narrows her eyes, turning to crank it over the pot.

“Actually, I stopped by my mom’s,” I say, and her gaze snaps to mine. “Told her about the baby.”

“Was she furious?”

“No.” I shake my head, grin breaking free as tension leaves my body. “She was excited. Supportive.”

“Really?” Her brows pull together.

“Yep.”

“That’s great,” she says softly.

“Have you thought about telling yours?” I ask as she sets down the salt, picking up a spoon to stir the sauce.

“I’m waiting till I’m further along, just in case.”

“In case what?”

She tilts her head. “Well, there’s no reason to get them up in a tizzy if there’s no heartbeat.”

My own heart stops. That possibility didn’t even cross my mind.

“When will we know?” I ask, panic rushing through me.

“I was able to make an appointment for the last week of July. They said it’s best if I’m eight weeks or later, so we have to wait.”

“Let me know when so I can make sure I’m there.”

“Really?” Her dark brows draw together. “You don’t have to come.”

“You think I’m letting you go alone?” I ask.Not a chance.

She shrugs. “I don’t want you getting in trouble for missing practice. I can ask one of the girls.”

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