Page 140 of Trust Me Always

That thought washes the unease down the drain with what’s left of the suds, and I climb out, smiling when I find a fresh T-shirt and pair of fluffy, green Hulk socks. I tug them on and towel-dry my hair as best I can, comb it out, and head down the stairs.

Brady’s just getting the fire lit, two plates on the coffee table that he scooted closer to the fireplace.

He looks up, his mouth open as if he was about to say something but he seems to forget what it was, and then the front door is opening.

“Oh, hello, my sweet babies!” Tisha coos, her hands coming together in front of her like a prayer.

Brady chuckles, raising a brow at his dad, who winks in return.

“Cameron, honey, did you see I made your favorite?” She grips her husband, stumbling as she kicks off her flats. “And Brady’s too. I made Brady’s favorite. Well, his favorite dinner anyway. I love you two so much, and I’m just so happy you’re here.”

I fight a smile, glancing at Brady, who wipes his mouth to cover his laugh. “I can’t wait to dig in. Thank you.”

She walks over, soft hands cupping and patting my cheeks as she smiles at me, her eyes growing misty. “Oh, I can’t wait to have a daughter,” she sighs happily.

I tense, and Ben starts laughing, walking over to collect his wife.

“Okay,” Ben chuckles, wrapping his arm around her middle and turning her toward the stairs. “Let’s go on up to bed, shall we?”

“We shall, Mr. Lancaster,” she all but purrs, and Brady makes a gagging sound.

His dad just smiles. “Good night, you two.”

They start up the stairs, but Tisha stops about halfway up.

“Oh, Cameron, honey. Sorry but we had to put some logs on your bed, so you won’t be able to sleep in there tonight.”

My brows jump. “Logs? On the bed?”

“Mom, what the hell?” Brady chuckles.

Tisha grins and keeps going, but Ben pauses, lifting a hand into the air with a shrug. “She figured the only thing Cam wouldn’t move would be logs.”

A laugh sputters from me. “And why exactly did she not want me to sleep in the bed?”

Rather than answering, Ben lifts a brow and looks toward his son. “Good night, you two.”

Oh. Ohhh.

My cheeks grow red, but I pretend they don’t and move to sit on one of the pillows Brady set in front of the coffee table.

Melted, gooey goodness stares back at me in the form of a massive serving of baked mac and cheese, a perfect layer of Tapatio having been sprinkled over the top, just the way I like it.

“Wasn’t sure if you’d want any fried pork chop or not. We can have seconds if you do.” Brady sits beside me, his plate of mashed potatoes, fried pork chops, and white country gravy poured on top.

I lean in to get a better whiff.

He laughs, and my eyes snap up to his. “I’ll take that as a yes, you want some.”

“Maybe just a couple bites of yours.”

“I’ll share if you share.”

“Bet.”

We start eating, the TV on low in the background and fire popping in front of us.

“Did you take a shower?” I wonder.

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