He smirked. “If it’s in a pretty red case, then yes.”
“You know you can text him, right?”
“Yeah, but you’re…” He waved his hand about. “You know, in his head.”
“Uh huh,” I deadpanned, despite channelling Mickey—my twin—through my mind.
We’d been connected this way for as long as I could remember, and I had to admit that it was pretty convenient at times.
His reply popped into my head.
I laughed aloud.
I let out a snort while pouring orange juice into the blender.
As if summoned by our internal conversation, Trav’s tattooed arms slid around my waist and his chin landed on my shoulder. “You’re my favourite, Lil Bean.”
Laughing, I rested my head against the side of his. “I heard you say the same thing to Brooklyn not even two minutes ago.”
“That’s because you’re all my favourite, besides Lee. She’s my ultimate favourite because she lets me see her boobs and p—”
“Trav! I know what she lets you see, and I donotneed explicit details.”
He roared with laughter and released me from his hold, then leaned his ass against the counter. “But I like the details.”
“Yeah, but I’m sure Ainsley doesn’t want us knowing them.”
With a shrug that signalled a change of subject, Trav dropped a bomb. “We’re gonna start trying for a baby.”
A pang cut through my chest and my gasp made his eyes flick over my shoulder, then back to me. “Keep that on the down-low, Lil. I wasn’t meant to sayanythingbut I had to tell someone.”
“Awww, Travie!” I cooed, shoving my own struggles with secondary infertility aside. “Look at you all grown up. You’re going to be the best daddy.”
His chest puffed with pride and his dimple-depth grin pulled wider. “Gage, Mace, and Mick do such a great job… I just hope I can live up to expectations.”
“You’re going to be a great one,” I reassured him with an affectionate forearm squeeze.
Trav’s gaze went all goo-goo and I dashed a glance behind me to where Ainsley cuddled Cree.
“She looks good holding a baby, doesn’t she?” Trav murmured, a million miles away.
“She does. Go join her, Travie. And your secret’s safe with me.”
“Thanks, Lil. And that’s why you’re my favourite.”
I laughed and playfully kicked his ass when he stepped away from the counter. “Get your ass out of my kitchen.”
“You love me,” he sang, dancing his way around the kitchen island.
“Yeah, Trav, I do.”