Page 106 of Rampage

"Nonsense," I protest, leaning into him. "He's being modest. Reid's been my rock through everything."

Mrs. Winters watches our exchange with maternal satisfaction. "Well, whatever you're doing, keep doing it. I've never seen two people more perfectly matched." She pats my cheek affectionately before adding in a conspiratorial whisper, "Now, show me that kitchen of yours. I want to see what you've done with my old recipes."

As I lead her toward the back, the bakery continues filling with well-wishers. The MC members mingle easily with the townspeople who've come to support the grand opening, their intimidating presence softened by their obvious affection for me.

In the kitchen, Mrs. Winters examines my workspace with expert eyes, nodding approvingly at the organizational system I've implemented.

"You've made it your own," she muses, running a hand along the pristine countertop. "Better than I ever could have imagined."

"I couldn't have done it without your guidance," I tell her sincerely.

She waves away my gratitude. "Nonsense. This talent was always in you, it just needed the right circumstances to bloom." Her eyes twinkle as she adds, "And speaking of blooming, when are you planning to tell everyone your other news?"

My hand instinctively moves to my still flat stomach. "How did you?—"

"My dear, I've been around long enough to recognize that particular glow." She pats my hand. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me until you're ready."

Before I can respond, Reid appears in the doorway, his expression curious as he takes in our conspiratorial posture.

I just found out this morning that I’m pregnant, I’m sure I’m only a few weeks but my body feels different.

I feel different.

Thats why I took the test and to my surprise, it popped up two lines.

"Everything okay in here?" he asks, his eyes meeting mine with that special warmth that still makes my heart skip a beat.

"Perfect," I assure him, crossing to his side. "Mrs. Winters was just admiring the kitchen." I exchange a knowing look with my former mentor, who nods encouragingly. "Actually, Reid," I add, suddenly feeling nervous, "could you check the test batch in the oven? I think there's a special bun that should be ready by now."

He looks confused but obligingly moves toward the industrial oven. "Sure, though I thought you'd finished baking hours ago…"

Mrs. Winters squeezes my arm before slipping out of the kitchen, giving us some privacy for this moment. My heart pounds as Reid pulls open the oven door, peering inside with a puzzled expression.

"There's just one small bun in here," he says, reaching for an oven mitt. "Do you want me to bring it out?"

"Yes, please," I whisper, my voice suddenly failing me as emotion wells in my throat.

Reid carefully removes the single, perfectly golden dinner roll and turns to me with a questioning look. "It's done, but… I don't understand. Why just one?"

I step closer, taking his free hand and placing it gently on my stomach. "Because there's already a bun in this oven," I say softly, watching his expression.

For a moment, he stares at me, the bun still held in his mitted hand. Then his eyes widen, understanding dawning like sunrise across his features.

"You're…" he breathes, his voice trailing off as his gaze drops to where his hand rests against my abdomen.

I nod, tears blurring my vision. "I just found out, wanted to be sure before?—"

The rest of my sentence is lost as Reid sets the bun down and pulls me into his arms, lifting me off my feet in a careful embrace. When he sets me down, his eyes are shining with tears and wonder.

"A baby," he whispers, his hand returning to my stomach with reverent tenderness. "Our baby."

I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. The joy in his expression is everything I'd hoped for, everything I'd dreamed of seeing when I planned this moment.

"Are you happy?" I finally manage to ask, though his face has already given me my answer.

"Happy doesn't begin to cover it," he says, his voice rough with emotion. "Lily, this is… You're…" He shakes his head, seemingly at a loss for words for the first time since I've known him. Instead of speaking, he cups my face in his hands and kisses me with such tender passion that my knees weaken.

When we finally break apart, both breathless, he presses his forehead to mine. "Thank you," he whispers. "For this gift. For trusting me to be a father. For everything."

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