Page 39 of Good as Gold
“What?” I’m wide awake now, still full of margaritas and excellent ideas. “I love this idea. I’m surprised I never had it before.”
He pinches the space between his eyes. “Honey, nobody in their right mind wants me to be a father.”
“That isnottrue,” I insist. “Ask anyone. The women of Colebury would form a line.”
He snorts. “Not the sober ones, honey. Let’s try to get some sleep.”
“I might be too drunk for that,” I admit.
He chuckles and rolls onto his back. “Just try. Don’t you have to work in the morning?”
“Oh shit. This might hurt.”
He laughs again. “Night, buddy.”
“Night,” I whisper.
I close my eyes carefully, wishing the room would stop spinning.
And when it does, I dream of babies with dark-chocolate eyes.
CHAPTER14
MATTEO
Leila’s alarm goes off way too early. My eyes don’t want to open.
“Ow,” she says. Then I hear her fumble around for her phone, silencing it.
I drift off, but the damn alarm sounds again a little while later. From Leila’s side of the bed comes a few whispered curses.
I lay still as she gets up and shuffles toward the bathroom. Poor girl is probably hungover. And unless I’m mistaken, she’s due at the preschool in under an hour.
The shower comes on a couple minutes later, and I finally sit up. I’m groggy, and the room is in disarray.
Not as much disarray as my mind, though. Had Leila really asked me to…? Even privately, I almost can’t finish the sentence. She’d asked me to… impregnate her.
Unbelievable.
I give my head a shake, and I look around for my clothes. I should get out of Leila’s space so that she can get ready. And—bonus—I can hit up my sister’s coffee shop, which is right across the parking lot.
After getting dressed, I trot down the stairs and cross the lot to the Busy Bean. It’s already open for business, with a few early customers seated inside.
And even though she closed the Gin Mill last night, Zara is behind the counter, using tongs to transfer a batch of steaming muffins onto a tray, and chatting with a customer.
I take a minute to look around at the baked goods inside the glass case and the comfortable but mismatched furniture in the spacious room.
My siblings are killing it. They must never sleep.
Finally, it’s my turn to order, and I step up to the counter. “Hey, lady. Nice place you got here.”
She looks up at me with a smirk. “I saw your car in the lot when I drove in this morning.”
“So?” I shrug. “Had to make sure she was all right. She’ll be feeling that hangover. Let me get her a cup of coffee to go—splash of milk—and whatever her favorite baked good is. Then double that order for me.”
“Look who’s a nice guy,” she says, reaching for the paper cups. “So selfless. No ulterior motives at all.”
I don’t take the bait. “Do I get the sibling discount?”
