25. Jane
CHAPTER 25
JANE
In historical romances, the heroines sometimes feel a throbbing in their wombs, which I always thought was a fanciful way to say “horny.” Tonight, on that couch, that is exactly what happened to me. That, and my breasts felt tender, and there was a gnawing emptiness in my core.
By the end of the first episode, I almost begged Adrian to GD me, but I obviously chickened out.
Still, there’s always tomorrow. Or the day after.
All I know is, Adrian seems like a man who knows what he’s doing in that department, and I’ve always dreamed of having an orgasm my first time, which is probably difficult because of the pain and discomfort usually associated with the act. I figure since I’ll already remember Adrian for the rest of my life as the man who gave me financial security, why not remember this extra factoid about him—that he was my deflowerer? I bet it will be a memory I’ll cherish.
The more I think about it, the less crazy the idea seems.
Equal parts excited and unsettled, I head to bed. Naturally, sleep doesn’t come. Between the new bed, the new job, and Adrian, I’m all but buzzing with adrenaline.
Which is why I have to self-administer three orgasms to have the slightest chance of shut-eye.
I skip like a kid on my commute to work, which consists of a five-minute walk, courtesy of my new domicile. If I were coming from Staten Island, it would be a two-hour ordeal involving a bus, a ferry, and a couple of trains.
To my shock, Mrs. Corsica smiles when she greets me. Granted, it’s only for a millisecond and with just the corners of her eyes, but still, a miracle.
She has me start with some boring red tape, but once I’m done, my first workday proceeds so wonderfully I almost want to pinch myself. Especially when she has me sort the historical romance collection that got me interested in this particular library in the first place.
As my workday draws to a close, I almost don’t want to leave.
When should I leave?
I wait until everyone else is gone before heading over to Mrs. Corsica’s office—where the door is currently ajar.
Mrs. Corsica is laser focused on her screen.
This is probably a bad time.
I turn to leave, but she clears her throat.
“Hi,” I say guiltily, turning around. “I was wondering if there was anything else I need to do?”
“No. You can go home. Good job.”
I don’t just go home—I float there, buoyed by that “good job.”
As I enter Adrian’s penthouse—correction, our penthouse, temporarily—I recall that today is the first time I’m going to meet Piper. That means I probably shouldn’t ask him about my GD just yet.
His dad duties seem more important.
“Hey,” Adrian says, coming around the corner. “How was it?”
“Amazing,” I say. “Where’s Piper?”
He looks at his phone. “Sydney is late, as usual.”
I can tell that this bothers him a lot more than he’s letting on.
Poor guy.
To distract him, I suggest we eat dinner together, and once we sit down at the kitchen table, I talk his ear off about my new job.
“What about you?” I ask, shoveling the last of the scallops into my mouth. “What were you up to?”
“I started to babyproof some of the rooms,” he says and looks at his phone again.
I grin. “Is Piper crawling already?”
“Not yet, but I wanted to get a head start.”
Adrian’s phone pings. He checks it and looks relieved. “Sydney just texted,” he says. “They’re here.”
He rushes to the elevator, and I don’t know if I should follow, but Leo herds me like he would a fellow sheep, so I don’t have a choice.
When we reach our destination, Sydney is smiling coquettishly at Adrian. As she spots me, her eyes narrow and lips turn down in a scowl.
“What is she doing here?” she demands.
Adrian sighs. “We went over this already. Jane is my fiancée. Obviously, we live together.”
Sydney grabs on to the handlebar of the stroller so hard her knuckles turn white. “If she’s going to be around my daughter, I need to run a background check.”
“ Our daughter,” Adrian says as he pulls up his phone and makes a few swipes. Looking back at Sydney, he says, “I ran a background check on Jane after we got serious. The results are in your inbox. Anything else?”
She reads whatever he sent her and mumbles something about doing her own investigation as soon as she gets the chance, but her hands relax their death grip on that handlebar.
“Here.” She takes off a backpack and hands it to Adrian in such a way that their fingers brush.
Do background checks say anything about murderous urges one sometimes gets when a baby mama touches one’s fake fiancé?
“There’s a batch of breastmilk in here,” Sydney says. “Warm it to ninety-eight degrees exactly and make sure it doesn’t boil.”
For the first time, Adrian’s chilly fa?ade breaks. “Don’t worry Syd,” he says soothingly. “Piper was fine with me the last time, and she’ll be fine today. I know what I’m doing. I’ve read all the books and taken all the classes. Just relax.”
Sydney’s eyes turn icy. “Don’t tell me how to feel. You’re not a mother. You have no idea what it’s like to part with your baby.”
Adrian’s jaw flexes. “I’ve got laboratory-grade equipment for the milk that will warm it to 36.6 degrees Celsius—exactly normal body temperature. Do you want to inspect it? Test it out?”
“No,” she says. “But promise you’ll call me if something happens.”
“Nothing will happen,” Adrian says. “But if anything does, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Bye, sweetie,” Sydney says into the stroller with such tenderness I forgive her for the earlier nastiness… but not for touching Adrian. I’m not a saint.
A part of me was worried that Sydney saw this baby only as a means to trap Adrian. Now it seems that even if that had been the starting point, Sydney loves their daughter as a mother should.
When Sydney looks up from the stroller, her gaze is icy again. “Bye,” she says to Adrian. To me, she doesn’t even deign to say anything, which is fine.
Turning on her heel, she strides into the elevator.
As the doors close behind her, Adrian visibly relaxes. He steps up to the stroller, and when he sets his eyes on Piper, the expression on his face is borderline worshipful.
This time, I don’t feel jealous of the baby. I’m glad she has so much love in her life.
Also, I’m very curious, so I tiptoe over and sneak a peek at her over Adrian’s shoulder.
“Gorgeous, isn’t she?” he whispers.
“Oh, I’ll say.” I grin at the chubby cheeks on display. “She’s the kind of cute they use in diaper and baby formula commercials.”
“I’m going to take her to the nursery,” Adrian whispers and slowly pushes the stroller.
Just as we enter the nursery, Piper opens her eyes and starts fussing.
“It’s okay,” Adrian croons. “Daddy’s right here.”
I feel a pressure in my chest, and my eyes are suddenly watery.
Meanwhile, Adrian takes Piper out of the stroller and rocks her from side to side, whispering reassuring nothings to her.
If I’m ovulating, can I sue the makers of my IUD?
“Do you want to hold her?” Adrian offers in a way that reminds me of when Mary says she’s willing to share the last of the chocolate ice cream.
“Just for a second,” I say and gently take the baby.
Dash it all. She’s so darn cute and smells so darn good. I already feel like I’m falling for her toothless charms. How crazy is that? The only other time I’ve felt this strongly toward a baby was when my sister was born.
It’s like a part of my brain already sees her as family. Maybe it’s because Adrian is my soon-to-be husband. Whatever passes for my spidey sense has gotten its signals crossed and doesn’t realize this marriage isn’t for real.
Adrian gets the milk out of the backpack, warms it, and brings it over.
Piper starts to fuss again.
“I think she wants you,” I say.
And who can blame her, right?
“I think she wants the milk,” Adrian says as he eagerly takes his daughter back.
With a tender smile, he kisses Piper’s chubby little cheek—which soothes her immediately.
Again, can you blame her? Also, is it possible to overdose on adorableness?
He sits in the nearby rocker and puts the bottle to Piper’s tiny lips.
Yep, adorableness overdose coming up—especially when he helps the little creature burp.
“Can you help me wash her?” Adrian says to me when the meal is over.
“Of course.” The offer swells my chest with so much pride you’d think he’s asked me to help him build a rocket to Mars.
When we get into the bathroom, Adrian removes his shirt.
Miss Miller doesn’t usually abide foul language, but deuce take it! A gentleman ought not to put a lady’s self-control to such a rigorous test.
I swallow an overabundance of saliva. Adrian’s chiseled torso renders me speechless and unable to operate heavy machinery, which a baby bathtub hopefully isn’t.
“I like to hold her skin to skin before the wash,” he explains upon seeing some of my discomposure. “If you want to wait until?—”
“No,” I somehow manage to say. “It’s totally fine.” And by “fine,” I mean my uterus is actively figuring out how to spit out the IUD.
Looking content, Adrian cradles Piper’s little pink body to his hard chest.
It’s official. I now truly understand the meaning of the terms “swoon” and “fit of the vapors.” In fact, it takes considerable willpower not to succumb to both such conditions at once.
By the time Adrian is ready for the bath to begin, my knees feel wobbly and I’m forced to take a sharp breath to get myself together. For Piper to be safe, I must be on full alert.
The bath begins.
As it turns out, Adrian has a special fancy baby tub, one that will only dispense purified water that’s a perfect ninety-nine degrees. This eases the process somewhat, as does the fact that Adrian is as good at this as he is at everything else.
Speaking of him being good, is this a bad time to ask him for my GD?
When Piper is dressed and lying in her crib, Adrian asks her if she wants to hear a story.
It could be my imagination, but I think she smiles in reply. Yep. She’s definitely doing it. There’s a flash of dimples and everything.
Adrian starts to read—and it becomes obvious that this is a story he wrote just for her. A great story, in fact, and something she will surely enjoy even more when she’s a little older. If she’s anything like Mary was at this stage, he could read an accounting textbook to her and she’d enjoy it the same way as she does this.
Soon, Piper is fast asleep, so Adrian takes out his phone and mimes switching it to silent mode.
I do as he says, and he texts me.
I’m going to stay here for the rest of the night.
He nods at the nearby adult-sized bed before adding:
Feel free to go do your own thing.
What if my thing is to watch him sleep? Or sleep with him?
Blushing, I text him that I’ll be exploring his library if he needs me, then leave.
Wow. If someone were to tell me Adrian spent a hundred million dollars to stock this library, I would not contradict that person. At first glance, I spot first editions of The Last of the Mohicans, Ragged Dick, Little Women, and Grapes Of Wrath.
Sadly, the selection of historical romance is negligently small. There are a few random classics by the biggest authors, including the Bridgerton series that he clearly bought after we met.
But hey. It’s a start.
I leaf through one romance book that I don’t recall reading. It sounds familiar, so I must have read it after all. It’s the one where the viscount discovers he’s a bastard and thus cannot marry the heroine—even though he’s impregnated her.
As I head over to start my evening routine, I keep dwelling on the idea of asking Adrian for my GD. This might be why, when I fall asleep, I dream of Adrian doing exactly that, which gets me pregnant despite my IUD. His sperm is that strong—one even waves its tail at me.
The resulting baby looks a lot like Piper, except she can speak from birth, and what she says is, “Just keep swimming,” in the voice of Ellen DeGeneres.
“Does that mean I should name you Dori?” I ask her.
Before she can reply, my alarm wakes me up.