Chapter 29

TWENTY-NINE

A month later, I’m emptying out the final box in our new house. I still don’t know how he was able to close on it so quickly, but I went from agreeing to move in with him to house hunting over the next week and then finding this gem that was in a gated community and had a large backyard for our daughter and any future children, as he likes to remind me.

It’s the house of my dreams, and even with my things here, it still feels surreal.

Thick, strong arms wrap around my waist, Ty’s big hands cradling my bump as I lean back against his hard body. My eyes close in bliss as happiness warms every inch of me. If Ty never gives me anything else, this feeling of home, security, and contentment will be enough.

I try to ignore that saboteur in my brain telling me not to get too comfortable. Ty’s been nothing but steady the whole time we’ve been together, so there’s no reason to believe it, but my constantly fluctuating hormones don’t always make it easy to ignore the negative voice in my head. I’m choosing to trust—and remind myself daily—that he’ll keep my heart safe. He won’t let me fall, and I don’t want to ruin this happiness we’ve found.

Unfortunately, telling myself that doesn’t necessarily stop the negative-thinking spiral, or the part of me that feels like I need to be on my best behavior in my own house. I have this irrational fear that if he gets annoyed by how I fold laundry or load the dishwasher or something else equally mundane, he’ll stop loving me. It’s ridiculous and there’s not anything Ty’s done to cause it, but it’s there, nonetheless.

I must stiffen or do something that gives away the negative turn to my thoughts because Ty nuzzles against my neck.

“What’s wrong?”

I shake my head. It feels so ridiculous, but Ty doesn’t let me get away with not telling him. My shoulders fall as I confess, “I haven’t lived with anyone since I was eighteen. It’s an adjustment, and I don’t want to do something that will end up being a deal-breaker for you.”

He spins me around in his arms. “And here I was worried about how my bad habits might be a deal-breaker for you . I’ll warn you right now, I hate doing dishes and more often than not they end up in a pile in the sink before I cave and put them in the dishwasher.” He winces like this is a major flaw in him. It’s annoying, but not a deal-breaker. He brushes my hair away from my face, and his expression turns serious. “Did your foster home kick you out? I may have done a little research and read that you can get extensions before you’re expected to just be out on your own, especially if you were still in school.”

I don’t like talking about that time, but there’s not the same panic clawing at my throat as when I usually think about those years. “No. It just wasn’t a good place. I had my bags packed for weeks—not that I had much of my own. I’d been working since I was fifteen, so I’d saved up as much money as I could. On my birthday, I left and slept in my car for a couple of weeks before I got an apartment. I got a tuition waiver as a benefit of being in foster care, so college was paid for, and I worked to afford books and housing. It might’ve been easier—certainly cheaper—if I’d been willing to get a roommate, but after so many years of living with other people, I wanted my own space. I wanted to feel safe when I was home.” It’s more truth than I think I’ve ever revealed to anyone.

His eyes darken as his face gets stormy and protective. “Is that the placement where you got the burn?”

God, I love how this man immediately wants to fight all my demons. It’s addicting having someone instantly come to your defense this way. I rub my hand over his hard pec. “No, I didn’t get my burns with that family.”

That doesn’t mean I didn’t experience abuse there. Physical scars aren’t the worst things that can come from abuse. Truthfully, I look at those scars and barely remember the pain anymore. But I can still remember clear as day the insults and the way those people made me feel—worthless, unlovable. The emotional abuse left much longer-lasting, albeit invisible, scars. Those are the scars that have kept me from letting Ty in all the way, even if I know he deserves to hear all of it.It’s hard to relive that pain to explain it all though, and at this point, that’s the only thing really stopping me from sharing it all with him.

He leans forward and kisses my forehead. “You’re safe here, Lex. You don’t have to act or be on your best behavior. You just have to be you.”

That’s a lot easier said than done. There’s something about simply having someone else in my space that makes that spot between my shoulder blades tighten. I’m always thinking about if I’m leaving dishes out or my laundry on the floor. I catch Ty staring at me as I spit out my toothpaste before we go to bed that night and instantly wonder if he saw something that’s put him off. But all he does is smile at me, pat my butt, and then start brushing his own teeth. I rinse my mouth with water and then on my way out, pat his butt in return, meeting his grin in the mirror before I scamper to the bed, my heart beating rapidly. A weird giddiness takes over me. This isn’t the first time we’ve slept together, but it’s the first time we’re sleeping together in our house .

I slide into bed and lean back against the pillows, my hand resting over my bump. She was active earlier after dinner, but she must be sleeping now because she’s not moving much. Knowing her, she’ll wake up right as I finally fall asleep. Some nights I can sleep through her flipping around in my stomach, but most nights she wakes me up. After unpacking a million boxes today, I’m hopeful I’ll be too tired to be woken up by her nocturnal acrobatics.

Ty flips off the light to the bathroom and then makes his way to the bed. I struggle not to stare at the hard lines of his toned body and the tattoos over his arms and torso as he gets into bed wearing only his black boxer briefs that hug every bitable curve of his ass. Seriously, this man is too attractive for his own good.

When my gaze slides up to his face, it’s to find him already smiling at me, one dark eyebrow arched and his lips quirked in the corners like he’s fighting back a grin.

My cheeks flush.“Oh, come on. You can’t blame me. I mean, look at you!” I gesture to his perfect physique.

“You won’t ever hear me complaining about you ogling me. Don’t worry, I was doing the same thing. Your tits in that top are fucking tempting.”

I glance down, and sure enough, my stomach has pushed my breasts up until they’re almost obscene, practically falling out of my tank top. They’ve gotten so big in the last few months, and I know Ty enjoys them.

I glance back at him with my own smile and arched brow. “Oops.”

He tips his head back and lets out a full belly laugh that has me laughing with him, and suddenly all my stress about the day and having to be on my best behavior around him disappears. It’s hard to be self-conscious when you’re laughing this hard. Happy tears are sliding down my face when his hand reaches out and brushes them away.

“I love your laugh. It’s one of my favorite sounds,” he says.

“One of them? You have others?” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I know what he’s going to say.

“Oh yeah. Let me show you another one.”

And then he slides down to his stomach, pulls off my sleep shorts, and spreads my thighs apart before burying his head between my legs, his tongue doing magical things to my clit that has my whole body tensing as a moan—his second favorite sound—rips from my throat.