“Can we have the spicy buffalo wings, the fried onion, and the artichoke dip?” I asked Danny.
“Sure thing. I’ll get those started for you.”
Danny left again, and I faced Slash.
He had a smirk on his face.
“Don’t make fun of me,” I huffed.
“I wasn’t going to. I just have one question.”
“What?”
“Is that how you normally order or was that a pregnancy-craving thing?”
“Which will freak you out less?” I inquired.
“I like a woman who can eat.” His eyes gleamed. “Any morning sickness?”
“No. Not yet.” I shook my head. “I still can’t believe it. I don’t know how this happened. I mean, I do. Of course, I do. The condom failed.”
“Which one?” he asked with a slow smile. “We went several rounds.”
“I’m aware,” I replied, straightening my spine.
I didn’t want to think about that night and how magical it was. He’d owned my body.
“Do you remember how greedy you were?” he asked, eyes darkening. “How insatiable you were?”
My cheeks heated. “Slash, don’t. Please.”
He inclined his head and then changed the subject. “I know you said you can do this alone. I believe you. I’m just saying you don’t have to.”
“How is this supposed to work?” I asked quietly. “Bottle or breast fed? Cloth diapers or disposable? Self soothe, or run to the baby every time he or she cries?”
He climbed out of his seat and came to my side of the booth. “Scoot over.”
“Why?”
“Just scoot.”
I scooted.
He sat and wrapped an arm around me and pulled me into the side of his body. “You don’t have to know any of that right now.”
I couldn’t help it. He was so strong and so comforting that I leaned my head against his chest and closed my eyes. “I know I don’t have to know all that right now. But those are the kind of questions that need answers. And it’s one thing if it’s just me making the decisions. But now you’re involved. You want to be involved, I mean.”
He didn’t say anything. He just continued to hug me.
“Why haven’t you freaked out?” I asked, finally pulling back and turning to face him.
“Who says I haven’t?” He raised his brows, making his scar dance.
“You’re consoling me.”
“Why do you make that sound like an accusation?”
“This isn’t a date.”