20. Emerson

Ididn't feel any different when I opened my eyes the next morning, but then I took in the rumpled blankets and the indent in the pillow next to mine, and my world shifted on its axis. Full-on flipped. I was an entirely new man. I was married. And when I crawled out of bed on the hunt for my husband, I found him standing in front of the stove wearing nothing but his birthday suit. I didn't know what I'd done to deserve this, but I was sure I still owed the universe big time.

"Now, that is a beautiful sight first thing in the morning," I said with a satisfied sigh, leaning up against the counter so I could take a good gander at those bare cheeks.

Roland laughed, filling my apartment with the musical sound. My home would never be the same again. Hell, this place wasn't even a home until he'd walked in that door; it was just a collection of rooms I'd barely lived in.

"I'm making you eggs," he said, "mainly because it's the only food you had in the fridge, but also, you definitely need to stock up on calories after that workout you got last night." He looked up at me through his thick lashes, and my stomach filled with those cliché butterflies.

"Gods, I love you," I blurted, a little off topic—but also, it would always be the topic.

Roland's face went all soft and lovey-dovey, and I had a feeling he was about to show me exactly how he felt. But I caught a flutter of movement out of the corner of my eye, and I jumped into action. "Roach!" I shouted, searching for something to squash it with. "Don't move, I'll get it."

"Oh, that's just Jerry," Roland said calmly.

"Wha—" I paused, wooden spoon suspended in mid swat.

He squinted. "Oh, my bad. I think that's Wilma."

"You've… named the roaches?" I asked in wonder.

He shrugged like it was no big deal. "I mean, we're sharing this space with them, aren't we? And long after we move out, they'll still be here. Showing a little respect never killed anyone." He scooted the roach away in case I didn't agree with him, but I couldn't very well squish the thing now, could I? I put my makeshift weapon back in the drawer.

This man… I didn't deserve him, but I would do everything I could to earn him.

I came up behind him, pressing kisses up his neck as he plated the scrambled eggs. "Do you have any plans for today?" he asked, wiggling his backside into my lap.

"Nope. For the first time in months, I'm taking a day off. I think I've earned it. What about you? Any plans?" I nibbled down his neck, teasing my erection against his ass.

"I have a doctor's appointment to check on the baby," he said, then paused. "Would you like to come?" he asked shyly. Did he really think I would say no?

"What time is your appointment?" I asked, skating my fingers up his bare thighs and over his hips.

"Not until two." He shivered at the gentle tease, goosebumps rising.

"Well, then I guess we have some time to kill…" I spun him around and grabbed him under the ass to boost him onto the counter, then I nudged his knees apart so I could nestle myself between them. He was soft in all the right places, hard where it counted the most, his erection bobbing against his stomach. And knowing that he was pregnant with my child, that his body was going to change each day, and I would get to witness it firsthand, it felt like a godsdamn privilege.

He watched as I used my thumb to trace the pulsing vein on the underside of his shaft, pausing long enough to collect the bead of precum from the tip. I brought it up to my mouth, sucking that perfect droplet from my skin. With the flavor still lingering on my tongue, I kissed Roland, sharing it with him with a sweep of my tongue. He moaned into my mouth.

We were interrupted by my phone ringing, and I hesitated. The only person I wanted to talk to was right here, so I knew nothing good awaited me on the other end of that call. "You'd better answer it," Roland said, but I could tell by the pinch of his brow that he felt just as much dread as I did.

I heaved a sigh and walked to where I'd dropped my phone on the table beside the front door. I froze when I saw the call display. "It's Sawyer." I looked up and shared a wary look with Roland as I accepted the call and lifted the phone to my ear. "Hello?"

Bypassing any polite chitchat, he went straight to, "You need to see the Chatter site."

I frowned. "Am I supposed to know what you're talking about?"

He grumbled something about me being old and out of touch, then explained, "Chatter Magazine is a gossip rag. They usually print articles about celebrities, but today, they aimed a little closer to home—as in sharing some hearsay about our beloved mayor."

"What?!" I gasped.

Roland was waving at me to tell him what was going on, so I switched the call over to speakerphone, then opened up my search engine and found the site Sawyer was talking about. Sure enough, there on their home page was a candid picture of the one and only Eva Ward, standing next to convicted mob boss Bruno Santana. The headline said: CORRUPTION IN CITY HALL—brIBERY, EXTORTION… MURDER?

Roland gasped and grabbed the phone from me. "She killed somebody?"

"Hey, Roland," Sawyer greeted him. "I hear congratulations are in order." Was he talking about the wedding or the pregnancy?

"Thanks…?" Roland frowned at me in accusation. I just shrugged. Either way, Sawyer hadn't heard anything from me. In fact, I hadn't told anyone anything. My own father didn't even know about the wedding yet.

"And no," Sawyer continued, back on topic, "she didn't kill anyone. At least, not that we know of. We still don't have proof that she's committed any crimes, but the good thing about tabloids is they don't have to follow the same rules as serious journalism. They can make the wildest claims, tag an anonymous source, and call it a day. Ethics and evidence aren't really a necessity. She could probably sue for defamation, but the damage will be done."

"Who's this we you keep referring to?" I asked. "Did you have your hand in this?"

He chuckled. "Let's just say I made some interesting connections at that fundraiser. Your doorman, Gerald, introduced me to that actor friend of his, Max Shepherd, and he mentioned how he'd met his husband thanks to a sketchy tabloid article, and it got me thinking. And then, I met Lee Black—"

"Black… as in Phillip Black, the last mayor?" Roland interrupted.

"Yes, Lee is his son," Sawyer confirmed. "Turns out, there's no love lost between those two. Anyway, he hinted that he might have some interesting information for me, forwarded me a few photos. So I made a few calls, and presto! You see the result." He made it sound so simple. "Do you think Eva will be upset?" He giggled.

I was scanning the article, and it didn't read like fiction. "Sawyer, this is…"

"Awesome, I know."

"The word I was thinking of was dangerous," I corrected him. "People have been killed for less, Sawyer. If even half of this article is true, Eva won't just be mad. She'll be looking to get even."

Sawyer's snort was distorted over my phone's speaker. "What's she gonna do? Once Pandora's box is open, there's no shoving it all back in." I wished I had his faith.

We said our goodbyes, now feeling significantly less buoyant than we had a few minutes ago. Neither of us felt terribly frisky anymore. "Come on, love," I said, "let's have some breakfast. You're eating for two now."

"Can we eat it snuggled up in bed?" he asked, sounding vulnerable.

"Of course, but your cockroach friends aren't invited, sorry."

He laughed, but there wasn't much humor in it. We were both thinking about the possible retribution that Eva might rain down on us. On the plus side, we hadn't been involved in getting that article published, so there was no way she could blame either of us, right? Roland and our baby were safe.

I grabbed our plates and led the way back to bed, where we propped ourselves up against the headboard, shoulder to shoulder, talking and eating until it was time to get ready for his doctor's appointment.

A shower did wonders to lighten the mood that had descended on us. I massaged Roland's back, building up suds, while we chatted about possible baby names and nursery colors. "I haven't done much planning," he admitted with an embarrassed shrug. "I didn't want to make any important decisions on my own, in case you wanted to…" He drifted off.

"I want to," I assured him, kissing him gently before I guided him under the spray to rinse away the soap and shampoo. I wanted to be involved in every step of this pregnancy. "Thank you."

"What for?" he asked, looping his arms around my neck, and when he found my skin cold because I'd been letting him have all the warm water, he turned us sideways so we could share.

"For… everything. For being patient; you've given me far more second chances than I deserved. Thank you for loving me, and for giving me the greatest gifts I ever could've dreamed of."

As far as gifts were concerned, it turned out that Roland was in a particularly generous mood. After double-checking the time, he decided we at least had time for a blowjob. I suggested that in theory, we could 69 and get two for the price of one, and he agreed with my solid logic.

By the time we got to the doctor's office, we were both feeling infinitely more relaxed. When the doctor came in to greet us, he seemed more nervous than we did.

"Hey, hi, uh… Mr. Stohl?" he said in greeting, checking the tablet in his hand.

"It's Mr. Holland," Roland said, beaming up at me, though technically we hadn't filed for the name change yet.

The doctor got flustered and froze. "Shit, I'm in the wrong room again. I'm sorry…" He made to leave, but I called him back.

"No, no! He just means we got married yesterday, and his name is changing. It's the right room," I promised him, but he frowned as if he thought I might be lying in order to be seen faster.

After confirming Roland's birthdate, he introduced himself as Dr. Zappek. He looked too young to be a doctor, all fresh and baby-faced. "Sorry for the confusion. I'm kind of new at this." He chuckled awkwardly. "I took over the practice from Dr. Saber recently… He's my grandfather," he explained.

My eyebrows rose. "Uh, how many babies have you delivered so far?"

"Oh… loads, don't worry. I'm very qualified." He wouldn't meet my eye when he said that.

Roland and I exchanged a look. I was seriously about to throw him over my shoulder and carry him straight out the door. But then the doctor said something that demanded we get answers. Like, now.

He clapped his hands together. "So, shall we take a look at the babies today?"

Roland's hand clamped down on mine with bruising force. "Excuse me? Did you just say… babies? As in, more than one?"

"Oh… Did I not mention that already?" Dr. Zappek glanced down at the tablet again, likely confirming he still had the right patient and we hadn't pulled a switcheroo when his back was turned. "Surprise!" He laughed weakly.