I poke his chest with my finger. “Well, Captain Smelly Bag, maybe you shouldn’t have allowed something to die in there, and then it wouldn’t have turned out that way.”
He nuzzles his face into my neck. “But you still fell for me, stinky gym bag and all.”
I turn to face him. “Maybe I should get my head examined.”
I flinch when he pinches my side. “Okay, okay. Of course I fell for you—it’s not like I had much of a choice, babe.”
“That’s right. You were always meant to be mine.”
His lips crash onto mine, and we forget about our surroundings. It’s just Zach and me, just like it was always meant to be.
Four months later…
I walk into the bedroom, thankful that my parents have Emme for the weekend because I would never have been able to put this all together with her hanging all over me. Now that she is walking, she finds herself into everything and always keeping Zach and me on our toes. I carry the tray of Zach’s favorite breakfast, coffee, four slices of bacon, and two blueberry waffles covered in syrup. I swear to God, if he gets syrup anywhere on the bed, he will be packing his bag and sleeping on his sister’s couch. I’m sure he wants to be nowhere near their house with them still being in their honeymoon phase. Lord knows what places in that house they have not christened.
I’m impressed that I was able to hold the tray steady enough from the kitchen to the bedroom. My hands are sweaty and shaky, not to mention I am full of nerves to the point of nausea. This should feel like a typical morning, even though it is anything but. I’ve been keeping this secret for the past week while waiting for this customized coffee mug to come in from a shop I found on Etsy.
I set the tray down on the nightstand as I settle on the bed next to my sleeping husband.
“Good morning, handsome,” I breathe against his lips before touching them with mine.
Zach reaches up, grabbing the back of my head, pulling me closer to him while deepening the kiss. Shit, my hormones have been raging lately, and I am so horny now, but breakfast first, sex later. He growls from the back of his throat as my tongue glides over the seam of his lips before pulling back. I sit back on the edge of the bed and pull my legs up under me.
“I made you breakfast.” I point to the tray of food next to him.
“But I’d rather have you for breakfast.” His eyes are now open and staring at me with a gaze that suggests this breakfast may just get cold after all.
Don’t fall for it, Haylee. It’s a trap. Be strong.
I bite my lip to prevent myself from launching my body over his and ravaging him. He sits up with his back against the headboard, his bare chest now on display. Maybe this can wait till after.
Zach looks over and sees the coffee mug on the tray. His jaw tenses as his brow furrows.
“Hey, where’s my usual mug?”
Of course he would notice that. The man has been drinking coffee out of the same mug since Emme was born. It’s blue and reads “World’s Best Farter, I mean father.”
“I bought you this one. It’s cute. You don’t like it?”
He inspects the mug, his face giving no indication if he hates it or not. He gives me the side-eye as he brings the cup to his lips. He makes a moaning noise, happy with the way his coffee tastes on his tongue.
“I miss my old mug.” He makes a pouty face.
Lord help us when his daughter starts doing that. She already has everyone wrapped around her little finger.
“But at least you make the best coffee.”
I may not be the best cook, but with Dani’s help, I’d like to say I’m improving…sort of. My family hasn’t been poisoned yet, so that’s a start, right?
This is seriously taking forever for him to finish this coffee. Why of all days is he savoring this? Most mornings, he has already begun his second cup before I am even halfway through my first. What he doesn’t realize is that this coffee mug isn’t just any mug. When he reaches the bottom, it says a special message.
“Wow, babe. Not that I’m complaining, but what did I do to deserve this? I mean if this is a thank-you for the multiple O’s you got last night, then I don’t know why I don’t get this morning often.”
I punch his arm as I take a seat next to him and steal a piece of bacon off the tray.
“You are so cocky, Mr. Jacobs.”
He shoves in another bite of waffles. “Yeah, but you still love me anyway.”