Chapter Sixteen
Nera
“How’s the firm going?” I ask. “Congratulations on your one-year anniversary, by the way.”
Six beams at Bellamy who raises her glass of orange juice in cheers, then turns back to me. “It’s going really well! B is handling all criminal cases, I’m focused on family law, and Phoenix is taking on corporate litigation.”
“Does he spend a lot of time at the firm?”
She hums thoughtfully in response. “I’d say thirty to forty percent. He spends most of his time with my dad at Blackdown but he uses his background in law to…” She pauses to think about her words. “To ensure Blackdown remains on the right side of the law in its shadier operations. I don’t really know much more than that. Neither Phoenix nor my dad will let me get involved.”
“Who’d have thought those two would ever call a truce in their Cold War for long enough to form an alliance against you?” Thayer drawls.
“Right?” She laughs. “But I don’t mind. I’m glad they’re bonding — for a while there, every family brunch felt like a knife might be thrown across the table in either direction, so I’ll take this progress.” She leans forward and grabs a piece of pineapple off her plate, popping it into her mouth. “Plus, I’m not interested in the company. I love the work I’m doing with families and making sure kids grow up in safe homes.”
“I’ve always said it, but you’re a real saint,” Bellamy says, absentmindedly rubbing her belly. “Meanwhile, I’m over here defending rapists and murderers.”
Six smiles at her. “Someone’s gotta do it. Everyone deserves fair representation.”
“I’m surprised Rogue is okay with it though. Seems his protectiveness would kick into overdrive,” I point out.
She gives me a look that makes me laugh.
“You have no idea. Especially now that I’m pregnant again, he’s never been worse. He wants me to come work at CKI after the baby is born.”
Bellamy just announced her pregnancy to us a week ago, which is why I’m holding this celebratory girl’s brunch in her honor. Tristan is upstairs with our kids, distracting them and keeping them from running downstairs and interrupting us.
The twins are two-and-a-half and have embraced the terrible twos with gusto, and Suki is six months and hasn’t been the easiest baby by any means, so it’s no small feat that he’s managed to keep them quiet and upstairs somewhere by himself.
“How do you feel about that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe down the road, but definitely not right now. I like that our professional lives are separate, that we each have our own thing. I’m also afraid that his possessiveness will be suffocating if I work there. You know how he can be.”
Thayer snorts. “Oh, yes we sure do.”
Bellamy drops her head back against the couch. “That being said, maybe it’d be a good thing. He’s so busy these days, we barely see each other.”
She pulls at a loose thread on her jumper and I can tell something is troubling her.
“Is something wrong?”
She sighs. “No, we just had a little disagreement last night. He didn’t come home until really late and missed the dinner I’d cooked for him, so I was a petty bitch and left without saying bye this morning. It wasn’t a big deal honestly, it’s not like it was a special occasion, I was just cranky. You guys know how these pregnancy hormones can be. And now that I’ve been fed this delicious brunch—thank you by the way, Nera—”
“Thank Tristan, I didn’t make any of this. Obviously or you’d all be on your knees clutching the various toilet bowls of my home.”
She laughs. “Well, regardless, the hangry bitch in me has been fed so I have access to my rational brain again and now I regret not saying bye. But it’s nothing, I’m just being dramatic. I’ll see him in a couple of hours. Ignore me, my emotions are all out of whack.”
Six leans over and squeezes her hand. “Back to the question of you working for CKI or not, for what it’s worth, I’ll support whatever decision you choose. You could also split your time like Nix does if you want.”
“Thank you,” Bellamy answers, gratitude echoing in her voice. “I really appreciate that. I do know that would mean a heavier burden on you though.”
“I don’t mind. Astra is the sweetest little baby and we’re not trying for another, so I can take it on. And I was actually going to talk to you and suggest we add a nursery slash playroom to the office. We could have care workers that we’d make available to all employees during work hours. I think that would be nice for working parents. And that way, I can bring Astra and see her when I want.”
Bellamy sits forward, her entire face lighting up. “I think that’s an amazing idea! You really were meant to work in family law, Six.”
Footsteps coming down the stairs draw our attention to the door, and then Tristan appears and strolls casually in.
“Sorry to interrupt ladies, just need to get Suki’s pacifier.”
I don’t think anyone hears what he says. We’re all too focused on the fact that he struts in shirtless. He holds Suki with one hand against his bare chest as he goes in search of her forgotten paci.
She’s so tiny that she barely covers up one of his tattooed pecs, making him look even larger than he already is. His muscles ripple beneath her body, the sinewy perfection of his abs making me drool. Every part of his chest is defined like it was chiseled by hand using fine tools.
He seems completely unaware of the effect he’s having on me, my friends, and my lady parts.
His gray sweatpants are slung dangerously low on his hips, revealing the deep V of his muscles. The physical need I have to lick a path down those lines and straight to the promise land makes my blood throb in my veins.
“Ah, there it is,” he says, finding it on a bookshelf. “Sorry, she just projectile vomited all over me so I’m between shirts at the moment.”
He holds our daughter with such ease against his strong body. There’s something about it that sends a bolt of lust straight to my pussy.
I didn’t think Tristan could get any more attractive than in his professor era. That really felt like the hotness equivalent of the peak of Mount Everest—the limit had been reached and you simply couldn’t go any higher. And yet it’s being easily blown out of the water by him as a father.
When he’s met with resounding silence once again, he turns around with a questioning expression on his features. He takes one look at my face and hisses in a breath.
“Watch it, Nera.” His voice is heavy with intent and deep in tenor, his words more of a promise than a threat. “Or else.”
I clear my throat of the needy moan that’s itching to break free. “Or else what?”
He walks up to me and cups my chin with his free hand, tilting it upwards. “I’m not going to say it in front of your friends, baby.” He pulls down my lip slowly, his thumb abrading the skin. His hungry eyes linger on my mouth, his voice turning husky with arousal. “But you know.”
He walks out without a backwards glance, but I see him adjust himself in his trousers as he leaves. An anticipatory shiver shoots from the bottom of my spine and up to the base of my neck.
Behind me, Thayer whistles wolfishly.
I turn towards her, face flaming bright red. “What?”
She looks to either side of her, first at Six who’s smiling knowingly, then at Bellamy, who’s making every effort to hide her laugh, and finally back to me.
“I want to be the first to officially congratulate you on your next pregnancy, Nerita. I’m thinking baby number four will be with us exactly nine months from this afternoon. With this one, we might actually be able to time it down to the minute we leave your house.”
I gasp and clamp a palm over her mouth. “You shut your mouth right now. Don’t you dare say that within earshot of him, what if he actually hears you?” I release her, then add, “My vagina is screaming just thinking about it.”
“Girl, and my mouth was watering just looking at him. For you ,” she quickly adds when I glare at her. “For you, of course.” She grins. “You should have him walk around the house shirtless more often, that was the best part of brunch.”
“You have one at home, just look at him.”
She shrugs. “I sure do, but it’s always fun inspecting other available merchandise. And, let me tell you, Tristan is a luxury good.”
“I’m going to kick you out of my house if you keep mentally ogling my husband.” I wave my hand energetically in her face and she laughs. “Forget you saw that!”
The doorbell rings. The girls throw me a questioning look that I give right back to them because I’m not expecting anyone.
I pull up the door cam app on my phone. Tristan had it installed the moment we brought the twins home. Having kids has made him even more protective than before.
I smile when I see who’s at the door and set my phone back down on my lap.
“Bellamy, do you mind getting that for me, please?”
“No problem,” she answers, getting up and heading towards the hallway.
“You’re making the pregnant lady get the door?” Thayer asks, incredulous.
A deep voice followed by a delighted squeal answer her question for me.
A knowing look crosses Thayer’s face. “Ah.”
The muffled voices continue for a couple of minutes while Thayer, Six and I talk, and then Bellamy joins us back in the living room. She’s clutching a bouquet of flowers to her chest and holding a paper bag in her hand.
There’s a dreamy expression on her face that only one man knows how to put there.
“If I didn’t already know who was just at the door, your face would say it all,” Six tells her.
“It was Rogue,” she answers with a lovestruck sigh that would frankly be disgusting if I didn’t feel the exact same way about my own husband.
“Let me guess,” Thayer says. “He came to tell you to never leave without saying goodbye again?”
“He came to apologize.” She sits back down on the couch, placing the flowers on the coffee table. She takes a box out of the paper bag and sets it on her lap. “When we went to Paris for our honeymoon, he took me to this amazing patisserie where I tried a cake called Le Merveilleux .”
“Yum, those are the best!” Six says.
“The best. I’m obsessed with them. I think I ate one every day we were there,” she says with a laugh. “Apparently, when Rogue woke up this morning and saw I’d left, he knew I was upset.” She opens the lid on the box and turns it to face us so we can look at its contents. “So he flew to Paris and got some in every flavor to show me he was sorry. He just got back. Who wants one?”
“Stop,” I say.
“I’ll have one,” Thayer answers, reaching into the box.
“And then yes, he told me I’m never allowed to leave without saying goodbye again,” Bellamy adds.
Thayer speaks around a mouthful of cake.
“Oh, my gosh, these are delicious.”
Six moans as she bites into hers. “Brings back all sorts of memories.”
I take a bite of one myself, relishing in the taste of cream, meringue, and chocolate. “Delicious. And I’m glad that’s settled, B. I know you were feeling anxious about it.”
“Mhmm.”
We eat in silence for a few minutes before Bellamy speaks again. “But anyway, to go back to what we were discussing before he interrupted us—I see why you and Tristan are popping out kids at the rate some would pop drugs in a nightclub.”
I narrow my eyes at Thayer who opens her mouth, silently warning her not to talk about how hot Tristan is again.
My friends have possessive husbands, and so do I, but I’m also a jealous wife. I can’t stand the thought of anyone looking at him, much less talking or, god forbid, touching him. I don’t know how Thayer puts up with her husband being in the spotlight and the subject of mass adoration at the hands of women everywhere. I couldn’t do it.
I’m lucky that his obsession with me doesn’t seem to be cooling with age. If anything, the more time we spend together, the more he wants from me.
“Believe it or not, they’re not being popped out fast enough. If it were up to him, I’d be pregnant again right now.”
***
A month later, I’m in my bathroom getting ready for the day when nausea hits me out of nowhere and takes me out at the knees. I’m clutching my stomach and diving for the toilet in the same second, getting the lid up right in the nick of time.
I throw up the breakfast Tristan just made me, watching the contents of my stomach hit the bowl with some measure of detachment.
Unfortunately, this doesn’t seem to be the type of bout of nausea where you puke and immediately feel better, which is so inconvenient. I have things to do today.
Tristan and I are working on opening his tenth restaurant. It’s a big project, one I’m leading from a design and interior decoration standpoint, and today I’m meant to share my mood boards with him.
I’ve spent months working on them. Digging through thousands of images and curating every single one I used until the board was perfect and fully captured the vibe I was going for — moody, sexy, and elegant.
His concept is an upscale Japanese restaurant. It's been his passion project since we spent three amazing weeks in Japan for our honeymoon. Every dish is inspired by memories we made there.
He recently cooked the whole menu for me and every bite brought tears to my eyes.
It’s his best work to date.
This is his most important launch and I want to make him proud, especially because it means so much to the both of us. He’s always so supportive of everything I do, whether professionally or otherwise, and I want to give the same back to him. I’m hoping the nausea will pass quickly and I can pull myself together so I don’t disappoint him.
Another wave hits me and I bend over the bowl, vomiting once more. I’m so weak, I can barely hold myself up. I drape my body over the edge of the toilet for support. Proximity to the bowl is paramount right now.
A hand comes down on my back and then Tristan appears beside me, bringing warmth and relief with him.
It’s as if he has a built-in homing beacon that alerts him when I’m in distress. No matter how far away he is, whether on another floor of the house or in another country altogether, he always seems to sense when I need him by my side. He never fails to drop everything at once and come to me.
He tucks my hair first behind my ear and then over my shoulders, keeping it out of my face as he comforts me. His presence instantly calms me, far more effective than any medication could ever be.
“It’s alright, baby,” he soothes, rubbing tender circles all over my back. I whimper weakly. “It’s okay, shh. It’s normal to have setbacks during your recovery.” He presses a soft, lingering kiss to my temple. “We’ll get back on track together. I don’t want you spiraling over this, it's all part of the process. Progress, not perfection.”
I shake my head but the movement makes me retch again. Tristan massages my back, his fingers digging gloriously into my shoulders.
He thinks that I did this to myself.
When we first met, my eating disorder was out of control. In fact, it actually controlled my life. Tristan played a major part in helping me get better. Seeing myself through his eyes taught me self-love.
It took a while, but slowly, I healed.
It’s been years since I’ve made myself throw up, but I can see why he’d mistake one thing for the other. He would find me in very similar positions back when I was struggling with my mental health.
I used to think that I would feel empty forever. I didn’t realize a person could come along one day and categorically refuse to be sidelined, instead stubbornly pushing past every obstacle I put up until he’d brought down every wall I’d built and filled that emptiness entirely with love.
A small part of me still feels like I don’t deserve to be loved by someone like Tristan. He’s too good and he loves me so much. He’s devoted in a way that borders on idolatry. I can’t quite believe I’ve ever done anything to merit that kind of happiness. My secret and most irrational fear is that one day he’ll realize he doesn’t love me and I’ll lose him.
“I didn’t purge,” I tell him, fighting another powerful wave of nausea. “That’s not…ugh, that’s not why I’m throwing up.”
I can’t see his face, but I can hear the confusion in his voice. “Then why?” Alarm raises the pitch of his words and I feel his hand tighten on my back. “Was it the breakfast I made you?”
“I’m pregnant.” I vomit again, except I’ve already emptied myself of my stomach contents so all that remains now is bile. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “Surprise. It’s morning sickness.”
I steal a glance at his face and snort loudly.
“I knew you’d be grinning from ear to ear when I told you,” I groan, my eyes closing to ward off the dizziness. “I swear to god, every time you look at me, you get me pregnant.”
“If only it were that easy,” he mutters moodily. Then, “Kidding, baby, making them with you’s the best part.”
Tristan goes to the vanity, opens up a drawer and takes out a face towel. He runs a stream of water, testing the temperature with his finger, then wets the towel and comes back to me.
“Don’t make me laugh right now,” I say as he sits behind me with his legs spread to either side of me. “I’m sick and trying very hard to be mad at you.”
He chuckles warmly and reaches for me. Wrapping an arm around the front of my shoulders, he pulls me back against his chest and brings the towel to my forehead. He presses it to my skin, moving it every so often, and kisses my temple.
“Of course, baby. Work on being mad at me while I take care of you,” he murmurs, kissing me again. “You can yell at me when you’re better.”
“The presentation today—”
I start, but he won’t hear it. His voice is firm when he interrupts me.
“The presentation can wait. This is more important. Far more important.” I rest against him with my eyes closed while he caresses my cheek.
Closing both arms around my chest, he squeezes me to him and sways us back and forth delightedly, peppering my entire face with kisses. “I’m so happy,” he whispers warmly against my ear.
I smile because I am too. As much as I’m ribbing him for it, as inconvenient as the morning sickness is, I’m thrilled. I could never be anything other than thrilled that our love is bringing more children into the world. Even if I wasn’t, Tristan’s obvious joy is infectious.
“Four kids by the age of twenty-five,” I muse. “People are going to think you’re trying to break some kind of record with me.”
He presses his mouth to the shell of my ear and whispers darkly, “Maybe I am.”
“Okay, but I haven’t worn non-maternity clothes in like, four years. Surely after this one, we’re done?”
He hums, running his fingers through my hair and caressing my head softly. “We’ll see.”
“You’re impossible,” I answer with a smile I try to hide from him.
“What’s impossible is the urge I have to buy you the most outrageously expensive thing I can find. Do you want a new house? A plane? An island?”
“For now, some Pedialyte and crackers will do.”
“I can have those delivered in the next fifteen minutes,” he says, pulling his phone out of his pocket and typing away with one hand while the other still holds me. When he’s done, he turns his face back towards mine and whispers in my ear, “But if you don’t pick from one of the options I gave you, I’ll just have to buy you all three.”
Another violent wave of nausea hits me and I sit up, dry heaving into the bowl. Tristan rubs my back comfortingly the entire time. When I’m done, I lie back down against his chest. He brings the towel up to my forehead once more.
“A house,” I say, my eyes closing once more as I snuggle into him. “A new home for our family, please. And make sure it’s big enough to house all these babies you keep putting inside me.”
“Ten bedrooms, then? You got it.”
“Absolutely not .”
We stay seated on our bathroom floor for a while. The last thing I hear before I fall asleep is the sound of his laughter floating up to my ears. It brings a smile to my face as I drift off.
***