Chapter 11
After the boat was secured on the new wooden dock, we disembarked, stepping onto the hot sand. Even though I was wearing sneakers, I could feel the heat seeping through the rubber and leather. In the distance, the beeping of equipment and the banging of tools filled the air.
As we approached the construction site, I was awed by the progress. Concrete walls were being put into place, and the entire foundation, as well as most of the outer walls, were complete. Men worked diligently on the roof, laying orange clay tiles. Oliver introduced me to the foreman, Charles Hennigan. He was a small man with a bald head, but it was clear he commanded respect. When a worker tried to give him a hard time, he stared him down with unwavering authority.
“How is everything, Charles?” Oliver asked, his voice carrying over the noise.
“On schedule,” Charles replied. “We made up some time with the walls. The pours went well and dried fast, thanks to the lack of rain.”
“How’s Jonah? And where is he?”
“I sent him to the bunkhouse. He didn’t seem to be feeling well. I think he might be a little dehydrated.”
“Thanks. I’d like to see him.”
Oliver shook Charles's hand before heading toward a large concrete house painted white with gray shutters. We walked along the hot sand until we reached a sturdy steel door.
“What will you do with this house when ours is built?” I asked, curiosity piqued.
“It will be turned into employee quarters,” Oliver explained.
“No one will be in the house with us?”
“Do you want them to be?” he asked.
“No. I want to be alone with you.”
I reached up and smoothed my hair back, feeling the sweat on my scalp. I couldn’t wait to get inside and out of the sun. Oliver pushed open the gray steel door, and I raised my eyebrows in surprise. From the outside, the house looked stark and boring; however, that was not the case inside.
Cool air rushed over my skin as we stepped into a large, open room. It housed a modern kitchen with stainless steel appliances, including an oversized refrigerator and a six-burner stove. White quartz counters gleamed, and the island accommodated eight black iron stools. A long wooden rectangular table was surrounded by twelve chairs.
On the other side of the room was a large conversation area with three overstuffed brown couches and a flat-screen television mounted on the wall. Gray tile swept through the rooms, leading down a long hallway where several doors hinted at bedrooms and bathrooms. The ceilings were open rafters, and large windows covered with closed white Venetian blinds kept the sun at bay. The walls were painted a basic white, with no décor yet adorning them.
I sighed with relief as the air conditioning soothed my overheated skin. “This is amazing,” I said, turning to Oliver. “I had no idea it would be so nice inside.”
Oliver smiled, pleased with my reaction. “I wanted to make sure everyone was comfortable. The main house will be even better.”
“I can't wait to see it finished,” I said, genuinely excited.
“Neither can I,” he replied, his voice warm. He squeezed my hand gently. “Let's go check on Jonah.”
Oliver called out for Jonah, and we heard a voice from one of the rooms at the end. We found his brother lying in the bottom bed of one of the two wooden bunk beds in the room. He was wearing a white tank top and blue plaid boxer shorts. A blush started to creep up my face and I looked down at the floor, embarrassed by his state of undress. Jonah sat up then flopped back on his pillow.
He groaned. “What are you doing here?”
“What’s wrong?” I could hear the worry in Oliver’s voice.
“Dizzy. I’m not sure what’s wrong. Charles told me to drink but I have and it’s not going away.”
Oliver sat down on the edge of the bed and touched Jonah’s forehead. He pushed his hand away.
“I don’t have a fever. I’m just dizzy.”
“You need to go to the hospital. You might be too dehydrated, and drinking won’t help. You need fluids intravenously.”
“You said I couldn’t leave the island.”
“You can leave for a medical emergency. Get some shorts on. We’re heading back to St. Croix and can drop you off.”
I stepped out of the room while Oliver helped Jonah get dressed. When Jonah tried to stand, he stumbled, and Oliver made him sit down.
“You need help to the boat. You’re not going to make it by yourself,” Oliver said.
“I have to throw up.”
Oliver grabbed a small plastic garbage can near the door and handed it to Jonah just in time. He purged his stomach and the smell that hit me was revolting. I pushed back a gag and stepped out of the room.
“I’m sorry. If I stay here, I’ll be the next one to throw up,” I said.
“Go wait in the kitchen. I called Vlad and Brenda to come up here to help me.”
I gladly did as Oliver asked, sitting on one of the stools at the counter before my curiosity got the best of me. The refrigerator was four times the size of a regular one and I yanked open the door to look inside. It was well stocked with drinks, frozen foods, dishes covered in tin foil, cold cuts, fruit and other items.
“Being nosy?” Oliver said.
I whirled around. “This refrigerator is huge! You could store a dead body in here.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Wow, that’s morbid.”
“You really could, just look,” I said, yanking open the doors.
“I’ve seen it. I plan to put the same one in the new house.”
I grinned. “Seriously? It’s just the two of us.”
“I don’t want to run out of food while we’re here. I was thinking we need at least a couple of weeks for our honeymoon.”
“I’ll have you all to myself?” I asked.
I was going to kiss Oliver, but we were interrupted by a knock on the door. Vlad and Brenda were standing there, each wiping sweat from their faces. It was humid here and I felt the rush of warm air as they came inside the house.
“Where is he?” Vlad asked.
“Down the hall.”
I hugged Oliver, feeling the dampness of his t-shirt sticking to his back. A minute later, Jonah was being escorted out of the house. He seemed shaky and pale. I hoped he would be all right.
After we got Jonah settled at the Christiansted Medical Center, we said our goodbyes and headed to the hotel. I was exhausted and desperate for a shower. Oliver left Vlad with Jonah, while Brenda accompanied us. She had her own room two doors down from our suite.
“We didn’t need a suite. It’s too big,” I said, looking around at the spacious floor plan that included a small kitchen, dining area, living area, and a wet bar. The bedroom rivaled the one in the penthouse, and I couldn’t resist jumping onto the white satin cover, sliding against the padded headboard and six oversized pillows.
“You’re like a little kid,” Oliver remarked with a chuckle, joining me on the bed and mimicking my jump.
“I need a shower,” I declared, getting off the bed and gazing out the windows that faced the ocean. Dots in the distance through the turquoise water hinted at Fox Island. With seven months before our wedding, I was confident the house would be finished on time.
“Charles said we’re on schedule to finish by June. We should pick out furniture while we’re here,” Oliver said, his tone businesslike.
I turned to him with a frown. “I thought this was a vacation?”
“A working vacation,” he corrected. “I want everything perfect when we get down here for our honeymoon.”
“You can only do that if we actually come here before we get married,” I pointed out, raising an eyebrow.
“Then we will,” he said, shrugging.
“No, I want it to be a surprise,” I insisted.
“You’ve already seen it. Besides, you always yell at me for surprising you. Are you going to let me see the design of your dress?” he teased.
My mouth dropped open as I untucked my shirt from my jeans. “No. It’s bad luck to see the dress.”
A few weeks ago, I had sat down with the Vicarias to discuss what I wanted in a wedding dress. They emailed the design to me a couple of days later, and I was in love. Oliver would cry when he saw it on me.
“That’s a myth,” he said, smirking.
“Be patient. You’ll love it. We need to discuss your tux,” I reminded him.
“We have plenty of time for that. I can buy one.”
“What about the groomsmen?” I asked, folding my arms.
“I can buy their tuxes too,” he said nonchalantly.
“Big spender,” I mumbled.
Just then, my cell phone rang, and I slid it out of my back pocket to answer. “Hello, Ty. How are you?”
“I’m good. I miss you. I sent you a few texts, but you never answered me,” Ty said, his voice warm.
“I’m sorry, things have been crazy,” I explained.
“Can we go out for drinks one day this week?” he asked.
“Drinks?” I repeated, glancing at Oliver, who narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. I looked away from his intense stare.
“I’m not in New York,” I continued.
“Where are you?” Ty sounded surprised.
“St. Croix. Oliver wanted to show me the home he’s having built on Fox Island,” I explained.
“Must be nice to have money,” Ty said, his voice dripping with bitterness.
“It’s not everything,” I replied softly.
“But it helps. He got everything. Money, success, and the girl,” Ty shot back.
“Stop it, Ty. We can go out on the weekend. How about lunch?”
“I’m busy. I do have a life outside of you.” Ty’s tone was glacial.
“I know you do. Does this have anything to do with my father?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly.
“Yes, it does, but you don’t seem to care. I want you to look at the video we enhanced,” Ty demanded.
“And what? Identify him? I don’t know who it was,” I replied, feeling a knot form in my stomach.
“I want you to look at some pictures. Maybe we can match it,” he insisted.
“Why can’t you believe me when I tell you I don’t remember anything?” I said, frustration edging into my voice.
“You’re suppressing. I know it was a long time ago, but don’t you want your father’s case solved? He deserves it,” Ty pressed.
“I want it solved, but not at the risk of my sanity. I still have nightmares. You want to dredge that shit up for me and make it worse,” I countered, my voice breaking.
“No, but maybe they’ll go away if the man responsible goes to jail,” Ty argued.
“Or maybe not,” I said, tears welling up in my eyes.
“Say you’ll think about it,” Ty pleaded.
“I have to go. Oliver is taking me to dinner,” I said, trying to end the conversation.
“Have a wonderful time,” he said sarcastically and hung up. I stood there with the phone to my ear as the line went dead.
“Sweetheart?” Oliver’s voice broke through my daze.
My bottom lip trembled. “He won’t let it go. I can’t do it. I just want it to go away,” I cried, the tears finally spilling over.
Oliver came to me, wrapping his arms around me. I buried my face in his chest, sobbing.
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” he murmured, stroking my hair.
“I want my father’s murder solved, but I can’t see the man that killed him. I just can’t,” I whispered, my voice muffled against his chest.
“We’ll find another way. You’re not alone in this,” Oliver said firmly, holding me tighter.
he said, his expression softening slightly. “Let’s take that shower.”
I nodded and we headed to the bathroom. As the hot water cascaded over us, I felt the tension of the day start to melt away. Oliver wrapped his arms around me, and I leaned into his embrace.
We had a wonderful time in St. Croix. The next day, Oliver took me back to Fox Island to drop off Jonah, who was feeling much better. We explored the two miles of land, and he led me to a waterfall and a small lagoon about half a mile from where the house was being built. I had plans for that spot when we went on our honeymoon.
We drove around in a golf cart with extra-large tires so it could handle the sand and rough terrain. The island was beautiful, and I couldn’t wait to do more exploring when we were there for two weeks.
I dreaded going home because New York was in the throes of a polar cold front. It was freezing, and Sadie told me not to come back. I wished we could stay for another few days. I spent one full day browning my skin on the beach and ended up with a nice golden tan. Oliver made sure to slather me with suntan lotion every two hours so I wouldn’t get burned.
On the plane, I slept while Oliver worked. He even took a conference call as we hiked through some of the wooded areas of the island. I was amazed he got any connection at all. I was so fascinated with the vegetation and the coconuts that fell from the palm trees that I wasn’t even annoyed he was working.
“Ryleigh, we’re landing in a few minutes,” Oliver said as he gently shook me awake.
“I’m not ready. Can’t we just fly to California or something? I want warm weather,” I whined, still half-asleep.
“You wouldn’t want to miss Christmas, would you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Of course not, but we could celebrate anywhere,” I replied, my voice filled with longing.
“What about a tree?” he asked, smirking.
“Yes, what about a tree? You said we could get one,” I reminded him, sitting up.
“Tomorrow after work, we can pick one up,” he promised.
“Can’t wait,” I said, grinning.
“As long as you have no problem cleaning up after it,” he teased.
“Oliver, it’s not a baby or a pet,” I laughed.
“They drop needles all over,” he argued.
“Not if you make sure there’s water in the stand. When I was a kid, we used to have a real tree all the time,” I countered.
“What was your favorite Christmas?” he asked, his tone softening.
“The last one my father was alive. He bought me a dollhouse and made some of the furniture in his workshop. I think it’s still in my parents' attic. What was yours?” I asked, curious.
Oliver thought for a moment, a smile playing on his lips.
"The year I got a ten-speed bike," Oliver said, a nostalgic smile on his face. "I was twelve. There was snow on the ground, but I insisted on going out. I was scared because I slipped on an ice patch and dinged a chunk of paint off the frame. I thought my parents would be upset, but they were just happy I didn’t hurt myself."
"What color was the bike?" I asked, intrigued by this glimpse into his childhood.
"Red. It was a Schwinn. I loved that bike. I gave it to my brother after my parents died," he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness.
"What did he do with it?" I asked gently.
"Lost it in a card game. Even at sixteen, I couldn’t control him," Oliver said, shaking his head slightly.
"Are you asking Jonah to be in our wedding?" I inquired, curious about his plans.
"I’ve been thinking about it, but that little stunt he pulled did not put him in my good graces," Oliver admitted, his brow furrowing.
"He seemed to be on the straight and narrow when we saw him," I said, trying to sound hopeful.
"That’s because he was sick," Oliver replied, a touch of skepticism in his tone.
"He’s trying to change," I insisted.
"He could’ve created problems with the assault. I’m glad it didn’t make it into the system," Oliver said, his voice growing stern.
The flight attendant came back and told us to prepare for landing. Oliver put away his laptop and strapped his belt as we began to descend. I followed suit, my mind still lingering on our conversation about Jonah and the upcoming wedding.
As the plane descended, I turned to Oliver. "You know, maybe involving Jonah in the wedding could be the push he needs to stay on the right path."
Oliver looked thoughtful, then nodded slowly. I'll think about it. Now, let’s get ready to land and face the cold.”
I sighed, but his warmth and optimism made the prospect of returning to the freezing weather a bit more bearable.
Oliver's words echoed in my mind as I stared up at the ceiling, contemplating his insistence on going to work. It wasn't that I minded working, but the idea of spending a day at home, cocooned in warmth and comfort, was undeniably appealing.
"Can't we just go in on Monday?" I pleaded, rolling over to face him.
He raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching with amusement. "And do what? Bake cookies all day?"
I grinned. "That actually sounds pretty good."
He chuckled, shaking his head. "As much as I'd love to indulge in cookie-baking bliss with you, we have responsibilities. Plus, we're meeting with the Ryders tonight."
My curiosity piqued. "Which Ryders?"
"All four of them."
I furrowed my brow. "Why? The project is on schedule, and you just talked to them last week."
"We're discussing a collaboration here in New York."
I hesitated, unsure of how to voice my concerns without causing friction. Finally, I settled on a vague response. "You don't need me."
His gaze softened, sensing my unease. "What's your problem with them?"
“You know what my problem is with them. They’re disrespectful and rude. I prefer not to be around them,” I snapped.
He reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "Don't worry, you're with me. I’ve already spoken to James and Callan. I’m sure their sons will behave this time."
I nodded, grateful for his reassurance, even though the knot of discomfort still lingered in my stomach. "That still doesn't make me comfortable."
"Ryleigh, please just come with me," he said gently, his eyes searching mine for understanding. “If they say anything, I want you to tell me, and we’ll address it immediately. I want you to know that this won’t be the only time you will face this type of behavior I’m sorry to say.”
With a sigh, I relented, knowing that arguing further would only prolong the inevitable. As much as I wanted to avoid the situation, I trusted Oliver's judgment and knew that he had our best interests at heart.
I took a quick shower, relishing the warm water cascading over my skin. As I stepped out, I wrapped myself in a plush white towel, the soft fabric cocooning me in comfort.
Oliver emerged from the shower stall, steam billowing around him. I watched him shave, admiring the way his strong jawline moved with precision. I couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment as he rid himself of the rugged stubble I had grown fond of.
“What’s your problem?” he asked, catching my gaze in the mirror as he wiped shaving cream from his neck.
I smiled, shaking my head. “I have no problem. I just want to look at my handsome fiancé.”
He rolled his eyes playfully. “Looks get us in trouble. I have a conference call at 8:30 so get a move on.”
“Hmm, all business today?” I teased, letting the towel fall to the floor in a heap as I padded out of the bathroom, naked.
I glanced back over my shoulder, catching the look of surprise on Oliver's face before I disappeared into the closet. I heard his footsteps behind me, then suddenly he was wrapping his arms around me, his naked body pressing against mine.
“Fucking tease,” he growled in my ear, sending shivers down my spine.
“I’m not teasing you,” I protested, turning to face him. “I was dry and didn’t need my towel.”
He smirked, his hands wandering over my skin. “You said you're sore, but your actions say something else.”
I laughed, pushing him away gently. “And you said you have a meeting this morning. We should get dressed so you’re not late.”
His response was to cup my left breast and latch his mouth onto my ear, licking around the outside. My body began to bloom with heat and my core clenched as he moved his hand toward my cleft.
“I’m sorry Mr. Fox but you’re going to make me late and the boss hates that.”
“The boss wants to screw you,” Oliver murmured, his voice low and teasing.
“That’s sexual harassment,” I retorted, trying to sound firm despite the fluttering excitement in my stomach.
My breath hitched as his finger brushed over my clit, igniting a rush of pleasure that made me tremble.
“Not if you ask me to do it,” he countered, his touch growing more insistent.
“Sexual harassment? I would never ask for that,” I protested weakly, my resolve melting away under his skilled touch.
He intensified his movements, coaxing soft moans from my lips before abruptly pulling away, leaving me achingly needy. Oliver turned to rummage through his drawer, but I seized the opportunity to press myself against him, my hand slipping down to stroke his throbbing cock.
“Unhand me, Miss Stewart,” he teased, his breath catching as I nibbled on his biceps.
“Two can play that game,” I replied huskily.
“Fuck, Ryleigh,” he groaned, unable to resist my touch.
“That’s exactly what I want,” I purred, my desire growing with each passing moment.
With a swift motion, he pushed my hand away, lifting me effortlessly and placing me on the cold granite of the vanity. I shivered at the sensation, anticipation coursing through my veins.
“You ready for me?” he asked, his voice thick with desire.
“I always am,” I whispered, spreading my legs eagerly.
He positioned himself between my thighs, his hardness pressing against my entrance before plunging deep inside me. I gasped as he lifted me from the counter, pressing me against the wall as he thrust into me with unrestrained passion.
“Yes, yes,” I moaned, my body responding to his every touch.
“You’re a naughty girl,” he breathed against my ear, his words sending shivers down my spine. “You push me until you get what you want.”
“Fuck me harder,” I pleaded, surrendering to the intoxicating pleasure of his embrace.
“Hold onto my neck,” Oliver murmured, his voice thick with desire.
I clung to him, feeling the intensity of our connection as he drove into me with relentless passion. With each thrust, a wave of pleasure surged through me, building towards an explosive climax. It hadn’t been long since our last encounter, but the craving for intimacy drove me to new heights of ecstasy.
“I love you so fucking much. Do you even know how much?” he whispered in my ear, his words sending shivers down my spine.
“I know, because I feel the same way,” I gasped, my voice trembling with my impending release.
“Come for me,” he urged, his breath hot against my skin.
I surrendered to the overwhelming sensation, my body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over me. As my orgasm crashed over me, I clung to him, my nails digging into his skin as he pounded into me with primal intensity. Seconds later, he found his own release, grunting as he filled me with his hot semen.
“Oh God, that was so good,” I mumbled, my body still trembling with aftershocks.
“We need to hurry, or we’re going to be late,” Oliver reminded me, his voice filled with urgency.
“Why can’t you have your conference call here?” I suggested, reluctant to leave the warmth of our embrace.
“I could,” he admitted, considering the idea.
“It would make life so much easier,” I pointed out, hopeful that he would agree.
“Are you showering again?” he asked as he lowered me to the floor, his gaze lingering on me with affection.
“I think I have to. You came a lot, and a washcloth wouldn’t do the job,” I replied with a teasing smile.
“Then you’ll find me in my office. I’ll take the call here, and we can go in right after,” he decided, his tone filled with determination.
“I knew you’d see it my way,” I teased, a playful glint in my eye.
“You’re a pain in the ass,” he chuckled, leaning in to press a kiss against my lips.
“But you love me anyway, so what does it matter?” I quipped, returning his affection with a smile.
“I’ve been trying to figure that out,” he admitted, his gaze softening with affection.
I scowled at him which made him laugh. He cleaned up at the bathroom sink while I took a quick shower, careful not to wet my already styled hair. He wasn’t in the closet when I finished drying myself. I stood there deciding on what to wear. It was frigid out which was so unlike December. A polar front had moved down from Canada while we were vacationing, and it wouldn’t leave.
I chose a pair of black slacks and matched them with a purple wool sweater. There was no way I would be wearing a dress or skirt in this weather. After I got dressed, I went to look for Oliver. He was sitting at his desk wearing a navy pinstriped suit, pink shirt and dark blue tie. He looked up at me when I entered the room and stopped taking notes on a piece of paper.
“Why don’t you join the twenty-first century and use your laptop?” I teased Oliver as he scribbled something more on his sheet of paper.
“I prefer to make notes the old-fashioned way. Please don’t pick on me,” he replied with a good-natured smile.
I couldn’t help but grin. “Do you want some coffee before your call?”
“Not enough time. I’ll have a cup at the office,” he declined, checking his watch.
“Do you want me to stay?” I offered, wanting to be supportive.
“It’s not necessary. This is about a deal with a Chinese supplier,” he explained.
“Shouldn’t I know?” I asked, feeling a twinge of exclusion.
“Another time. I want you to get up to speed with the real estate dealings for Fox. After that, we can branch out,” he reassured me.
“Fine,” I acquiesced, though I couldn’t shake the slight disappointment.
“Ryleigh, don’t get upset. You’re doing a great job, but there’s plenty for you to learn. It will take time,” he comforted me.
“I get it. I’ll leave you to your call,” I replied, trying to mask my feelings.
As he turned his attention to the ringing phone, I headed to the kitchen, craving the comforting embrace of caffeine. As the coffee maker hummed to life, I felt a pang of frustration. Oliver was right; there was so much I still needed to learn about Fox Asset Corporation’s dealings.
Rubbing at my temples, I waited impatiently for the machine to produce my salvation. This state-of-the-art contraption could conjure up any coffee concoction imaginable, from lattes to cold brews. Lost in my thoughts, I scrolled through my emails until Oliver emerged from his office, signaling the end of his call.
“Sweetheart, ready to go?” Oliver's voice pulled me from my thoughts.
“I guess,” I replied, still feeling a tad sullen.
“Still angry at me?” he asked, concern evident in his tone.
“No. I understand. Your company is big and there’s a lot to learn,” I conceded, trying to let go of my lingering frustration.
“I want you to concentrate on the real estate side and a few other things before we get you involved in my overseas business,” he explained, his arms enveloping me from behind as I washed my coffee cup. “You’re a smart woman. I know in a few more months, you’ll be up to speed on everything,” he reassured me, planting a kiss on my temple.
“Suppose I don’t want to be?” I challenged lightly, turning to face him.
He released me, allowing me to finish drying the cup before responding. “You don’t want to learn the rest of my business?”
“I do. I want to know all there is to know,” I clarified, placing the cup in the cabinet.
“Then stop giving me a hard time,” he retorted with a playful grin.
“It’s fun. You get riled up so easily,” I teased, brushing past him.
“You’re impossible,” he sighed, following me into the closet.
“I aim to be. Who would keep you on your toes if it wasn’t for me?” I quipped as I selected a pair of black ankle boots.
“I can think of a few people,” he replied with a smirk.
“But not like me,” I insisted, slipping on the boots.
“Ready?” he asked, changing the subject.
“Ready. I hope this day goes fast,” I replied, mentally preparing for the day ahead.
“Are you wearing that outfit to dinner?” he inquired, eyeing my attire.
“Is it more formal?” I questioned, considering a change.
“Not really. I had Henri secure a table at Diamond Square,” he revealed.
“That is a bit dressy. Maybe I should change unless we come back here before we go to dinner,” I mused, scanning my wardrobe for alternatives.
“You’re dressed fine,” he assured me.
“You sure?” I sought confirmation.
“Positive. I think you look great. Purple suits you,” he complimented, his gaze softening.
“What was that about Henri securing you a table at Diamond Square?” I probed, intrigued.
“I had him make a reservation,” he explained casually.
“That’s not what I mean. You own the damn place. Those people would bend over backward to accommodate the boss,” I pointed out, a hint of amusement in my tone.
“You just love sticking that in my face, don’t you? Eventually, you’ll be their boss too,” he countered, a playful glint in his eyes.
“Good. I plan to make use of that fact by stocking up on those delicious macarons,” I grinned mischievously.
“I feel sorry for Mariah,” he chuckled.
“Who’s that?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“The pastry chef. Macarons are her specialty,” he explained, amusement dancing in his eyes.
“Then I must thank her because those things are incredible,” I said appreciatively, reminiscing about the delectable treats.
“You promised to go to the gym and work extra hard,” Oliver reminded me gently, concern etched on his face.
“Afraid I’ll get fat, Fox?” I teased, trying to lighten the mood.
“Fat, thin, I don’t care because I love you either way,” he reassured me, sincerity lacing his words.
“Yeah, we’ll see when I gain thirty pounds during a pregnancy,” I quipped, a hint of sarcasm in my voice.
“I can deal with it because you’ll be carrying our baby. It doesn’t matter to me. I’ll help you lose it,” he responded earnestly, his eyes filled with love.
“Let’s get to the office. I want to get this day over with,” I suggested, eager to shift focus back to our daily routine.