Blake Maxwell.
My house. My rules, I already got what I need so I open the door.
It’s a weak and pale Mr. Maxwell, Rose’s dad next to an ebullient and chipper Cason.
“Morning Thorn, and great news. Thought we’d head straight over… seeing as you’re not answering your phone,” he grins.
I know his look.
He loves his mischief, but I know it’s only because he cares.
Wants me to be happy.
Maxwell’s tired eyes look past mine, searching.
“We got a deal with the feds. They are lookin into the case you put to them. Existing activities in Valor are only marked as ‘under investigation’, but hell, it’s taking off now. Especially now with all the new intel,” Cason exclaims.
And I have to agree.
“And no investigation into Mr. Maxwell here. He keeps good standing, and something I suggested to him is that he might want to come work for us… At the club?” Cason asks knowingly.
“That’s up to Mr. Maxwell, I guess,” I offer.
Watching both their eyes move past me.
I know she’s there. I can feel her, even when she’s not right by me.
“Rose?” her dad croaks.
I don’t need to turn around to know what he’s seeing.
It speaks for itself, and Carson has the consideration to lead Maxwell away before he causes a scene.
“I’m Thorn’s now, Dad,” I hear her tell him flatly.
“And a pleasure to meet you too, Cason,” she adds, seeing my old friend tip a fingered salute in her direction as he winks at me.
“We got this Thorn,” he assures me. “I just had to come see for myself. To prove that the mighty Thorn had finally found his Rose after all,” he smiles.
“And a very good morning to you, Rose. I hope we didn’t disturb you too much. Looking forward to seeing you down at the clubhouse real soon, miss,” he says giving her a nod.
“Oh, I found her alright,” I tell him.
“And I won’t ever let her go… Let me know if the fed need any help with the case. Rose and I might be busy for a while. Maybe a few days at least…”
Epilogue
Three Months Later
Rose
“It’s beautiful!” I gasp, feeling him lift me up in the air as he kisses me.
“You shouldn’t keep buying me things, Thorn. It’s too much.”
His hands grip my waist, lifting me up like I weigh nothing.
“It’s never too much for you, my Rose. It’ll never be able to show you how much I love you,” he reminds me.
But more jewelry? More clothes?
“Thorn,” I try to reason with him. “I can’t keep letting you spoil me like this,” I protest, holding the bangle out into the light after I’ve squeezed him tight.
I don’t need the jewelry, I don’t need the sparkle to have him show me he cares.
How much he loves me.
I get that every night, and anytime I want during the day too, if he’s not working.
Jewelry aside, the clothes have been coming thick and fast lately.
Almost as much as my waistline has expanded. There’s a practical reason for new clothes every few weeks lately, it seems.
I blamed it on his home delivered meat subscription at first. Then on how much he kept telling me to take it easy, sleep late and do nothing but eat and make love all day if I want.
But this is beyond fantasy.
I know something’s up. It has to be.
No man could love a woman getting into this shape.
“I love you no matter what you look like, baby,” he coos, nibbling my ear and reminding me he can’t wait for my body to be on the bigger side of where I am now.
“More of you to love this way,” he groans as we both fall back on the bed.
I feel him press into me, and I groan but not for the reasons he thinks.
“I gotta pee,” I lie and lifting myself from our bed I rush to the bathroom, failing as I try to hide it from him for the first time.
This sick feeling.
This throwing up every morning now, and none of it from anything I ate. It feels different.
Something I worry he won’t like, even though we’ve both talked about a family.
But it’s too soon. Isn’t it?
He’s at the bathroom door right behind me, telling me everything’ll be alright.
Like he doesn’t mind seeing me heaving into the toilet.
He even chuckles a little before joining me on the floor, squatting down next to me, holding my hair back.
“Sorry baby,” he croons, helping me up and supporting me while I wash my face after. Sitting down on the toilet after he flushes it, watching me brush my teeth.
“You wanna get off watching me throw up now?” I growl, feeling more embarrassed than angry.
But his enthusiasm only seems to grow. His smile only gets wider as he scans me from head to toe.
“Thorn, why are you acting all weird?” I ask him.
Wishing I could share his mood right now, but I’m fighting back another wave of nausea and feel totally unsexy in front of my man right now.