Nope.
I did not want to think about Jonathan Wade right now. This was a time for Daphne and me to reconnect, to celebrate the baby we’d created.
Jonathan Wade, Wendy Madigan, promises I’d made and broken—none of that had any place here.
I sliced into my prime rib. Normally I didn’t order beef anywhere, but I knew where this had come from. The Broadmoor served only Steel beef, which was humanely raised, of course.
Yeah, Daphne had turned me on to her humanely raised requirement over the years. She was so loving, my Daphne. She loved all living creatures.
God, she deserved better than the life I’d thrust upon her. So much better.
Things were going to change.
I’d already put some processes in motion. My Daphne would live the rest of her life in joyful happiness. I’d see to it, no matter what.
“Oh, thank you so much,” Daphne gushed when the waiter set down a plate of mashed potatoes in front of her. “You’re a gem.”
Anyone who made my wife’s eyes sparkle like they were sparkling now was getting a huge tip.
I nodded to him. “Yes, thank you.”
“You’re very welcome, both of you. What else can I get for you today?”
Daphne froze, her lips parted.
“Baby?”
She didn’t respond.
I turned back to the waiter. “Nothing. Thank you.”
He nodded politely and then left.
“Daphne?” I said again.
She continued staring, as if looking through me.
I’d seen her this way before, but not in a long, long time. Usually a touch from me helped. I reached across the table and placed my hand over hers.
“Baby?”
She blinked. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
Relief swept through me. “Nothing. Are you okay?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
What to say next? I’d learned with these brief episodes to just go on as if nothing had happened. To do anything else would upset her.
“Just concerned about the nausea.”
“I’m feeling okay.” She inhaled. “These potatoes smell divine.”
I nodded. “Good. I’m glad to hear it.”
I watched in awe as Daphne cleaned her plate.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” she asked.
I looked down at my own nearly full plate and chuckled. “I was having too much fun watching you.”
“Silly. You’ve seen me eat before.”
“Not like that, and not when you’re in the first trimester.”
“True enough.” She licked her fork.
And my groin tightened. Only my wife could make licking mashed potatoes off a fork look sexy.
I pushed my uneaten dinner away.
“Let’s go back to the room,” I growled.
“Aren’t you hungry?”
“Oh, yes. Very.”
She smiled. Right now she had a full belly, which would ease her nausea for a while. I planned to take full advantage of the situation.
I signaled to the waiter. “Check, please.”
“Of course.” He took my plate. “Let me box this up for you.”
“No, thank you. I’ll be satisfying my appetite elsewhere tonight.”
“Of course.” His cheeks reddened as he grabbed Daphne’s empty plate and made a quick exit.
“Now look what you’ve done,” Daphne said. “You’ve embarrassed that poor man.”
“He’ll be well compensated. Don’t you worry.”
A few minutes later, he dropped off the check. I gave him a generous fifty percent tip and scribbled my signature.
Then I met my wife’s warm gaze.
“Let’s go.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Daphne
We didn’t make it back to the room.
Darkness had fallen, and as we walked around the back of the gorgeous brick building, we spied several couples cuddling on the wooden benches situated in the green courtyard.
I pulled Brad toward an unoccupied bench. “Let’s sit.”
“I can’t do what I want to do to you out here,” he said.
“Please. I want to sit here and make out like the other couples. I want to feel young again.”
“We are young, baby.”
He wasn’t wrong. I was thirty-one and he was thirty-five. But we’d been yanked out of our young adulthood by an unplanned pregnancy thirteen years ago. We hadn’t had the luxury of those first years together without children—getting to know each other while we couldn’t keep our hands to ourselves.
We’d never made out on a bench.
“Please?”
He cupped my cheek, thumbing it softly. “I’ve never been able to say no to you. I suppose kissing you won’t be so bad.”
I turned my head slightly and kissed his warm palm. “Ha ha. I’ll make it worth your while later.”
“You don’t have to make a deal, Daphne. If sitting on a bench and kissing will make you happy, I’ll gladly participate.” He sat down on the hard wood bench and pulled me close.
I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Have I ever told you how amazing your lips are?”
He chuckled. “I’m not sure you have.”
“I’ve been remiss, then. You have the fullest, darkest, most kissable lips I’ve ever seen on a man. Including the best-looking models and celebrities. Your lips are works of art.” I moved one hand away from my neck and trailed my index finger over his top lip and then his bottom. “So perfect.”
He puckered his lips and kissed the tip of my finger.