Page 77 of Accidental Mile High Daddy
“You feel okay?” I asked, keeping my voice level even as my brain began to turn.Nauseous? Pain? Perceived a threat like a startled deer?
She glanced down at her stomach, at her twitching fingers, and lifted them away. “Yeah. Sorry. I keep…touchingit. Them. Like, subconsciously,” she murmured. “I’m not nauseous or anything, if you’re worried. That’s usually just the mornings now.”
“That’s an improvement, right?”
“Yeah. It was constant the first two months.” Her legs folded in as she sat forward, picking up another glass container with her name on the bottom. A little laugh crept out of her as she spoke again. “I still cry at commercials, though. Especially those stupid SCPA ones. And I swear, my boobs have gone up a cup size and are actively getting in the way ofeverythingright now. But, hey! I’m not throwing up ten times a day and I haven’t sobbed over anything but a lack of Frosties since last night, so that’s progress.”
My lips twitched up. “Still can’t believe you cried over Wendy’s.”
She shot me a look that saiddo not start with me.“I was emotionally compromised.”
I grinned wholeheartedly and shoved a grape in my mouth. “And now you’reemotionally compromisedin the woods with an overpriced picnic. You’re welcome.”
She rolled her eyes at me. “True. Now I can cry surrounded by a curated charcuterie board that Ican’t even eat half of.”
I chuckled. “All right, all right, that’s my bad. Next time, I’ll make sure I just get Frosties and cider.”
She beamed at me. Fully, ridiculously, beautifullybeamed. “Next time?”
“Don’t push your luck, sweetheart.”
————
She didn’t even make it through takeoff.
One minute she was yawning, teasing me about the twins ending up thriving on dinosaur-shaped nuggets instead of formula if Zach had his say, and the next, her head was slumping gently to the side before landing on my shoulder on the bench seat of the jet. Her legs were tucked up to the side, her seatbelt done loosely around her waist, boots off, and arms half wrapped around herself.
Her breaths evened out. Her face relaxed in a way I’d only seen once that morning in Cancun — no barbs ready behind her teeth, no fire in her eyes, justcalm, just soft, and unguarded sleep. The small bump of her belly pushed against her sweater, rising and falling in a rhythm that matched mine without even trying.
I didn’t move. Not a single inch.
Some selfish part of me hoped we got stuck in a queue waiting to land just so I could stay like that, with her curled against me like she, for once, trusted me not to ruin everything.
But outside the window, Atlanta glowed under the night sky, a scatter of white and gold lights over blackness. The hum of the engines was steady and low, and even through the change inpressure, she didn’t stir once. Not even when the wheels hit the tarmac. Not even when I popped her seatbelt buckle open.
I waited until the jet parked up near the hangar before gently brushing my knuckles across her cheek. “Sienna,” I said, my voice soft. “We’re home.”
She stirred slightly, her brows twitching, her body naturally curling into me just a little bit more, her eyes blinking quickly but blearily in a daze. “Mmm,” she mumbled. “Fuck, I drooled on you.”
I did my best to chuckle without my shoulders shaking. “It’s fine. It was cute.”
“Liar,” she muttered, pushing herself upright and rubbing her eyes. “What time is it?”
“Late. Let’s get you home.”
She didn’t argue with me. Instead, she let me help her up, her sweater slipping off one shoulder until I righted it, her eyes still heavy as she looked up at me without a single bit of fight behind them, just bare honesty, and exhaustion. Her movements were sluggish, her voice calm, and she nearly zonked back out in the car on the short drive.
She leaned against the window of my Maserati, watching the streetlights blur past in silence. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t ask her to come back with me, didn’t even let the temptation show on my face. I could have easily talked her into my bed, touched her quietly, lost myself in her before inevitably finding my way to another soft surface in my house to sleep, but today wasn’t about that. That wasn’t my end goal. She was quiet, and comfortable, and still letting me be a part of this, and that wasenough.
When we pulled up to her place, I got out first, opened her door, slipped an arm around her back to help her up the stairs. She didn’t ask why I wasn’t trying harder to come inside, and I didn’t explain. Just pressed a single kiss against her foreheadbefore helping her unlock the door and urging her inside with a“Text me in the morning.”
And as she turned and shut the door, locking it behind her, I didn’t feel like she was shutting me out.
For the first time in a long goddamn time, it felt like progress in a direction I never usually tried to go. It felt like this could bereal, and more importantly, it didn’t scare the hell out of me. It felt like words I had always been terrified to use with anyone except Zach, felt like the world was finally letting me breathe, felt like I hadn’t ruined everything.
It was enough.
She was enough.
