Page 113 of Perfect Pairing
“My water just broke.”
Eyes wide, I glanced down to see Chloe’s jeans were in fact wet, like she’d peed herself.
“Holy shit,” I breathed.
And that seemed to be the catalyst that sent the rest of the room into action. Before, where you could hear a pin drop, there was now a flurry of activity. My mother stood at the table, openly sobbing. Dad, stoic as ever, remained seated, grinning widelyaround a mouthful of pizza. Next to him, Hansen ignored the adults as he dove into his own slice. Ezra backed to the edge of the room as Logan rushed to my sister, scooping her into his arms as best as he could with her bump between them, murmuring low words of comfort and affirmation to her before setting her down and hustling them both out of the room without a word to anyone else.
This was their moment, and I knew he’d keep us updated. I watched them go, excitement for my sister and the arrival of my niece tinged by the worry that I’d never have the opportunity to experience such a thing myself.
When I woke thenext morning, I found the bed next to me empty, the sheets cool enough to mean Ezra had been up for a while.
After Chloe had gone into labor the night before and the excitement had worn off, we’d settled into a bit of a tense family meal, not wanting to let Ezra’s hard work go to waste. Still, the entire affair was tinged with melancholy. People had babies every day without any issues, but it was different when someone you cared about deeply was giving birth. Logically, I knew something going wrong was a high improbability, but it did nothing to quell the anxiety I had over the whole thing.
Once we finished dinner, Ezra, Hansen, Rik, and I had returned to the Wendts’ house, and Ezra did his level best to distract me with his tongue and hands and cock.
And once he’d wrung every possible ounce of pleasure from me, I drifted off into a dreamless sleep with his arms wrapped tightly around me.
Waking in his bed was disconcerting to say the least, since we’d only spent the night together a few times, and it had always been on my turf.
I loved his house, though. He’d shown me endlessbefore-and-after photos of all the updates they’d done a few years ago, and Rik’s penchant for carpentry and other aspects of home remodeling was evident in how gorgeous the house looked now. Ezra’s room was masculine, with slate grey walls balanced by light oak floors that ran through the entire house, plus his massive king bed with its matte black metal frame. Windows flanked each side, though they were covered with blackout curtains. There was a thick black and white Moroccan-inspired rug on the floor, a matching runner covering the white marble in the en suite bathroom, though the floors were heated, which did wonders for my frozen toes as I padded in to relieve myself before going in search of my boyfriend.
After putting on a pair of sweatpants—which happened to be his—I trotted out into the kitchen to find the three Wendt men in various stages of their morning routine.
Rik sat at the circular table nestled into the bay window, the paper propped up in front of him, his half-moon glasses perched on the tip of his nose. Hansen was at the island, his knees tucked under him on the stool as he bent over what appeared to be a drawing pad. Ezra was at the stove, something sizzling in the pan before him.
“Baker Brie!” Hansen shouted happily when I appeared.
I approached the island and gave him a side hug, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Morning, kiddo.”
Then I approached his father and repeated the process, though my kiss landed on Ezra’s lips.
“Good morning, honey.”
“What’re you making?”
“Denver omelets,” he said then dropped his voice. “It’s a goodway to get Hansen to eat vegetables without knowing it.”
I inhaled deeply. I loved Denver omelets, and truthfully, I was starving.
After filling a mug with coffee, I turned to Ezra and asked, “Do you have creamer?”
He nodded at the fridge. “In the door.”
I opened the stainless-steel monstrosity and found a bottle of my favorite caramel non-dairy creamer waiting in the door.
“You drink Planet Oat creamer?” I asked, arching a brow.
Ezra chuckled and shook his head, padding over to me to place a quick kiss on my forehead before returning to the stove. “I bought it for you.”
My heart swelled in my chest, and I was certain I had hearts in my eyes as I stared at him. “Thank you,” I whispered.
Ezra winked and pointed his spatula at the stool next to Hansen. “Sit.”
“Yes, Chef.”
A grumble emanated from his chest, and I giggled as I moved to sit next to Hansen. To keep him occupied while he cooked, Ezra had given him a pad of paper and a box of colored pencils. I studied the drawing as I sipped my coffee, and Hansen hummed some indistinct tune as he colored in the head of a surprisingly detailed dragon he’d drawn.
“What’s his name?” I asked.
