Chapter 7
Natalie
I wipe my forehead with my sleeve and then double-check my hair is still pulled back.
Blowing out a long breath, I shake out my arms and then grab the piping bag again.
I don’t know if this is so difficult because I’m pregnant or because I’m weak.
All I know is that the big jerk better appreciate it because I’m never doing this again.
I will gladly pay whatever price to let a professional decorate a cake from now on because this is horrible.
The front door slams, and my eyes widen. No, no. He’s home early. I glance at the time on the oven, realizing it’s not a time at all and instead it’s the temperature of the oven.
“Oh, fuck me,” I mutter as I toss the apron off and use a sterling silver hanging pan to sort out my hair. It’s ridiculous because I’m sure Henry won’t care either way.
His footsteps tap against the tile floor. “Natalie?”
“In here!” I call, moving to the large center island in the kitchen to glance over the prepared food. Thankfully we had the trays of hot plates to keep it warm for him since I don’t have the best time management.
Henry stops short in the doorway of the kitchen, his eyes taking in the array of food. “What’s going on?”
I swallow the sudden knot in my throat. “It’s your birthday. Sarah said that this is one of your favorite meals, so I thought you’d like it.”
His eyebrows raise. “Did you make this?”
My cheeks flush with embarrassment. God, is he going to reject it if I did? “Yeah, I mean Sarah helped a little. I'm not the best cook, but I mean...everyone deserves something on their birthday.”
He looks at me for a moment, and then clears his throat. “It looks good. Mind if I change out of this, then we can eat?”
I nod with a smile. He hates having to wear the suits to the company. “Yeah, I’ll move it to the dining room.”
Henry moves closer to me, pulling me into his arms and kissing the top of my head. I think it’s the gentlest he’s ever been with me. He pulls back, looking down the length of my body. “Nah, just make your plate and I’ll be right down. Your feet are doing that weird swelling thing again.”
I bat at his chest. “Oh my god. Rude. It’s not weird. It’s common in pregnancy.” I scowl at him and he grins before winking and leaving me there.
Wiggling my toes in the small slippers, I realize they do look pretty swollen, and suddenly the tiredness of the day washes over me.
I make a quick plate and groan when I sit down in the chair.
My god, my legs and back are stiff. I’m so lost in relaxing that I miss him coming back down until I hear the thud of the plate being set on the table.
He’s looking at me, amused. “You good?”
I nod. “You were right. My feet did hurt.”
“I’ll rub them after.” He says it so nonchalantly, as if it’s nothing to him, while I want to burst with happiness. It’s the little things that really start to weigh heavier to me.
I can’t help but watch him take the first bite. He chews it slowly, looking back at me, slowing even more.
“Don’t be a jerk,” I chastise.
He grins, setting his fork down. “It’s good. Thank you. I really appreciate that you did this for me.”
My heart goes into that little pitter patter it does sometimes when he’s sweet. I clear my throat. “I didn’t really know what else you might want, but I figured I’d try my hand at a home-cooked meal.”
“Can I expect meals from you often?”
I scowl. “Oh god, no. It was horrible, but you’re—” I almost say worth it, but that’s too sappy.
And no way near where we’re at. Hell, I have no idea how he feels.
I’m not even sure how I feel half of the time.
I’m convinced the baby growing inside me is hypnotizing me to care about Henry more than I should, but that’s an insane thought, so I ignore it.
“How’d you know it was my birthday?” he asks, clearly ignoring what I almost said.
I cast my glance down, wondering if I should tell him the truth or not. I don’t want to upset him, but it’s not like I have a way to lie about it either. “Uhm. Your father—every year he’d pour a shot and make us toast that you’d find success.”
Henry’s fork drops to the plate. “What?”
I look up quickly, seeing his face turn a little pale. “I’m sorry to bring that up, but it just came up when I would send my siblings flowers and some gifts. I asked him once if he wanted me to order one for you too. He said you wouldn’t want to be disturbed.”
He looks away from me, something sad in his eyes as he stares out the window, and I hope I haven’t ruined his birthday. My fingers are tight around the fork as I push around the food and wait for him to speak again.
“Did my father speak about me a lot?” His voice is a little hoarse.
I shrug. “Not to me, Henry. I know that he had a security team that followed you, and that he believed you would come back to him one day. I think his pride just made it impossible for him to reach out.”
He nods, taking a drink of his wine and then narrows his stare at me. “You could be lying. I have no way of proving that.”
Rolling my eyes, I take another bite. “I made you dinner and cake. You think I’d bother bringing up your father just to lie?”
Henry sighs. “No, no I don’t. And I don’t want to think about him anymore. Someone cooking me a meal that wasn’t paid to do it has to be one of the nicest things I’ve ever gotten.”
A blush heats my cheeks. “It’s no big deal.”
He reaches over, dragging my chair closer to him as he studies my face for a moment. “It is. We both know it is.”
It’s a struggle to breathe for a moment as we stare at each other. We’ve both grown up in households that never had to worry about a thing, but at least I had my mom to show me an ounce of affection when she had the time to. I break the locked gaze first, looking toward the kitchen.
“I bet the cake is a disaster, so don’t thank me yet.”
He chuckles as he pushes out of the chair then leans over me, bracing his weight on the table.
Butterflies flutter in his stomach as he kisses my forehead.
“Thank you,” he whispers, then walks to the kitchen to grab a piece.
I brush my fingers over the spot he kissed, then drop my hand to my round belly.
All I want for this baby is a family that loves each other, but I try not to cling to the hope growing in my chest.