She sighs heavily, but nods in agreement. “Okay, and a residency if I’m accepted.”
“So demanding,” I say.
“It’s my dream. I want to be a doctor.”
I kiss her quickly. “Then, yes, you can do a residency. I want you to be happy.”
She smiles and I know that smile is all I’m living for now as I sit back and hold her in my lap, content to be with the woman I love.
31
ELIZA
Iwalk down the corridor toward the bedroom with a tray of food. Despite my insistence that Adrik needs to rest, he’s spent the past few days working. It’s Saturday morning, and he was still asleep when I woke, so I got us breakfast in bed.
There’s no way I’m letting him work today. When I get to the room, he’s out of bed and I can hear the faucet on the tap running in the adjoining bathroom. I sigh heavily and set the tray down on the coffee table to one side before heading toward him.
The door is ajar and I glance inside, seeing him leaning over the sink, a haunted look in his eyes.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
Those hazel eyes snap to the door and he nods. “Yes, just woke up.”
He doesn’t need to tell me he woke up from another one of his nightmares. I’ve seen that look before. “I got you breakfast. Come back to bed.”
He arches a brow. “I’ve got work to do, baby girl.”
I shake my head. “It’s a Saturday.”
“No rest for the wicked.”
“I’m not letting you out of this room.”
He smirks at that.
“Now come and have some breakfast.”
“Are you bossing me around now?” He turns and marches toward the door, a predatory look in his beautiful eyes.
I sink my teeth into my bottom lip. “It will go cold.”
He opens the door and steps out, the scar on the left of his abdomen healing but still angry and raw. The other wound is more or less healed now, since it’s been well over a month. I swallow hard as my body heats. The healing scar is a reminder that he would risk his life to save my own. No monster without a heart would do such a thing.
“Okay, let’s eat.” He grabs my hand and yanks me toward the coffee table, pulling me down onto the sofa.
I pass him a plate laden with pancakes and syrup, and he raises a brow. “Not the healthiest choice.”
“Healthiest isn’t always best,” I say, picking up my plate and a fork and shoveling some into my mouth.
He shakes his head. “It is when you’re carrying our baby.”
“You are such a buzzkill.” My brow furrows and I place a hand on my abdomen. “The baby wants pancakes.”
He chuckles and I find myself in awe of how beautiful he looks when he’s at ease and relaxed with me. When he’s not hiding everything behind a shield of granite. Slowly, his ice-cold exterior is melting and I’m getting to know the real Adrik Volkov. “I’m not sure how you know that. I’d say you want pancakes more like.”
I shove him in the shoulder, and we eat in companionable silence.
“So, if I’m not working today, what am I doing?” he asks, as he sets his empty plate down on the tray.