"Are you okay?" Kasen interrupts. His voice is tight, like he’s worried. It’s not angry like I expected.
"I... yes? Why?"
"Because your last text was over half an hour ago, and you always respond faster than that when you're okay. Are you having contractions? Is he moving? Do I need to call Reed?"
The concern in his voice makes my heart hurt a little. "I'm fine. Really. Just lost in spreadsheets."
"That's what you said last week when you almost passed out during a call."
I frown at my computer screen. "How do you know about that?"
"Kieran texted me. At leasthefills me in on what’s going on with you."
"That little snitch," I mutter even as my gut twists with guilt because Idohide things from him so he doesn’t overreact. Actually, knowing that Kieran and Kasen have formed some kind of alliance to take care of me feels... not terrible.
Huh.
"Come home, Pink," Kasen says, his voice softening. "I made lasagna."
"Did you actually follow a recipe this time?"
"I did, though it might be a little crispy on the edges because I got distracted by an idea in my workshop."
"Of course you did," I say, already gathering my things. "Is it edible?"
"Absolutely. Get your ass home before I eat all the good corner pieces."
Despite everything, I laugh. "You're ridiculous."
"And you love me anyway," he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. "See you in thirty?"
"Twenty," I promise, already saving my spreadsheet. "And Kasen?"
"Yeah?"
"Save me the crispiest edge piece. Those are my favorite."
“I’m eating it if you’re a minute late.”
After hanging up, I gather my stuff, trying to ignore how eager I am to get home to him. To sit together at the table while he watches me eat with those light blue eyes, making sure I'm getting enough protein. To hear him tell me about his day, aboutLake's latest dating disaster or the new experimental batch they're brewing.
I'm almost to the door when it swings open again. This time, it's not Kieran.
"Working late again?" My mother stands in the threshold, not a hair out of place even though it’s late. She’s smiling at me, despite her words. I know how much she values hard work. "Some things never change."
Damn, he’s definitely going to eat my lasagna now.
"Mom." I set my bag down, already bracing for the lecture. "What are you doing here?"
"I had a faculty meeting that ran late. Thought I'd stop by." She surveys my office, her gaze lingering on the ultrasound photos I've taped to my monitor. "Though I'm surprised to find you still here. I assumed you'd be rushing home to prepare dinner for your husband."
The way she says 'husband' makes it clear what she thinks about the situation. I straighten my shoulders. "I don't make his dinner. We cook together. Or more accurately, I sit and critique while he makes the food."
"Hmm." She takes the seat Kieran just vacated. "And how is domestic life treating you? Living under a man's roof, depending on him?"
"It's not his roof, it's our house," I snap before I can stop myself. God, how did I buy into all her bullshit before? "And I don't depend on anyone. We have a partnership."
In so many ways.
