Chapter 30
Aurora
After our quickie, we all manage to shower in record time—well, as fast as four adults can with two bathrooms. We haven’t gone out in a while, so I neatly braid my hair and apply light makeup, nothing fancy.
With limited options in my closet, I dress in a pair of leggings and one of Jackson’s hoodies. My feet are a little swollen, and I opt for wool socks and UGG boots—the perfect outfit for the snowy winter weather.
By the time we leave the bedroom, our bags packed for an overnight at Rocco’s, I’ve worked up an appetite, and I’m ready for a nap. My stomach is rumbling, my body sluggish, but Eli is energized and kicking.
“I’m starving,” I announce, one hand resting on my baby bump. “We need to stop for breakfast.”
Reece slides an arm around my shoulders and kisses my temple. “What do you feel like—eggs? Steak? A mocha latte? Decaf, of course.”
“Hilarious,” I grumble. “This baby does not crave steak, and a decaf mocha is just a hot chocolate.”
He chuckles as Jax slips past us into the kitchen.
Ethan checks his phone for the umpteenth time, then shoves it into his jacket pocket. “The twins are bringing the car around. We need to move.”
Jackson reappears, holding a red velvet cupcake—one from the Greenwich bakery, with cream cheese icing and tiny hearts on top, my absolute favorite. He takes a massive bite, and frosting smears across his upper lip.
I giggle and lean toward him. “Tease. Give me a bite.”
Before I can get the heavenly dessert into my mouth, Ethan’s voice cracks through the room like a whip. “Absolutely not. You’re not having a cupcake for breakfast. Didn’t we just talk about this?”
Jax freezes, his hand outstretched, the half-eaten cupcake in his palm. He doesn’t yank it away, nor does he encourage me. He licks frosting from his lips and leaves the cupcake there for me to decide.
He has never been one to control my food intake, count my calories, or restrict my diet. He’s always been accommodating, never questioning what I eat or why I’m a picky eater—which is good, because, until recently, I did all that myself, neurotically.
And I’m not interested in returning to that lifestyle. I face Ethan. “Are you serious right now?”
“Dead serious.” He hikes his bag higher on his shoulder. “You need actual nutrition, not sugar bombs that’ll crash your system in an hour. We’ll get you proper food in twenty minutes.”
Twenty minutes? I’m hungry now—worse, I’m irritated.
Heat floods my cheeks. “I’m pregnant, not five years old. I can decide what I put in my body. It’s a single bite of cupcake, not the entire thing. Why did you bring them home if I’m not allowed to have one?”
His eyes flash with disapproval. “Aurora, enough—”
“No. I let it slide last night because I skipped a meal, but you’re not going to control everything I eat. I’m done with that in my life.”
His brows shoot up. He stares at me, lips pressed together, as if he’s waiting for me to realize I’m wrong and fix my attitude. He’s in for a surprise.
My chest tightens with anger. Black spots dance at the edges of my vision, and my stomach churns, killing my appetite. I gesture toward Jackson and the cupcake. “You might as well eat it. I don’t want it anymore.”
He lets his arm fall to his side, his expression torn between guilt and concern. “Are you okay?”
“No, I’m not okay. For the first time in my life, I can eat for enjoyment—without worrying about fitting into a bikini or a skimpy piece of lingerie or meeting a certain standard—and this constant control over my food is ruining it.”
It’s ridiculous to be this upset over a cupcake, but I’m so furious, I could cry. I hate confrontation; my insides are quaking.
“Angel.”
Reece reaches for my hand, but I pull away.
“No. You do it, too. I’m sick of it. There’s nothing wrong with a big pancake breakfast, then eating lighter the rest of the day—as long as it doesn’t become a habit. There’s nothing wrong with a bite of cupcake. It’s the fucking holidays.”
I’m shaking with rage, things are hazy, my skin is on fire. I’m on the verge of throwing up, and it’s as if a fist is squeezing my chest.
Large hands cradle my face, and ocean-blue eyes search mine. “Stop. Your blood pressure is high and your glucose levels are unstable. You’re clammy and shaking. Have you felt the baby move?”
I nod weakly. “Just felt him kicking before all this.”
“Do you have a headache?”
“No,” I say automatically, then pause to reconsider. “Maybe a little.”
“Blurry vision?”
“Spotty…?”
“Chest hurt?”
My eyes well with tears. “Yes,” I whisper.
“If this keeps up, I’m telling you, the doctor will put you on bed rest—actually, you need to rest. You’ve done too much this morning.”
Before I can protest, he bends down and scoops me up, one arm under my knees, the other bracing my back.
“Reece! Set me down! Your shoulder—”
“It’s fine. Your weight is on my other side. Hold on to me.”
I shake my head. “I’m not going to bed.”
“I’m not taking you to bed. Just relax.”
Knowing there’s no point in arguing—we’ve been here before—I loop my arm around his neck and rest my head on his chest. “This is completely unnecessary.”
He kisses my forehead. “I’m sorry I didn’t take care of you yesterday. We’ll work on the sweets and more enjoyable foods, okay? But right now, I need you to eat a protein bar and sip some water.”
Ethan stands in the doorway, arms folded across his chest, his expression dark. I’m doomed. We’ll never have morning sex again—not while I’m pregnant. We didn’t even leave the apartment. I’ll never be allowed to go anywhere.
And he sure as fuck won’t bring home cupcakes again.
Jackson appears at my side with a protein bar already unwrapped and a bottle of water. “Sorry, babe. My fault. Here.”
Now that I’ve laid my head down, it’s spinning. The fight has drained out of me, and exhaustion has taken over. I feel stupid, and tears burn behind my eyelids. Still, I do as I’m told. I finish the protein bar and take sips of water.
When we finally step outside, the twins wait beside a black SUV. Reece carries me to the vehicle, cradling me against his chest as if I’m made of glass.
Embarrassment burns hotter than my anger did moments ago. “I can walk now,” I insist.
He ignores me, and I decide I’m never calling him Papi again—no, I take that back, I’ll tease him with it. He hates being teased.
Lucas opens the door, his brows furrowed. “Everything okay?”
“Blood pressure spike,” Reece explains.
He carefully sets me down, and I slip into the back with Jax. Ethan slides into the seat beside me, still radiating with displeasure. The twins climb into the front while Lucas and Reece claim the middle.
We pull away from the curb. I stare at my lap, fidgeting with a coat button, feeling foolish as I wait for Ethan’s inevitable lecture.
Instead, he sits there in silence, staring straight ahead, the tension in the vehicle suffocating because of me—because I had an outburst over a cupcake.
I release a reluctant sigh. Ethan could’ve easily kept his mouth shut and let me have a bite, but I digress.
A subtle nudge brushes my thigh. I glance down to find a red Jolly Rancher partly tucked under my jacket and Jackson’s hand slipping away. His gaze remains fixed on his phone, but the corner of his lip twitches.
I unwrap the candy at my side as quietly as possible, the crinkle of the wrapper impossibly loud in the tense silence of the SUV. Ethan looks over, and I feign boredom, my heart pounding.
Jax grins, a Jolly Rancher pinned between his front teeth, and makes an obscene sucking noise that snaps Ethan’s attention to him instead.
Making a show of it, Jackson draws the candy into his mouth with a slow, suggestive sweep of his tongue, then clacks it against his teeth. “Want one?” he asks Ethan with a wink.
Grateful for the distraction, I turn my head and pop mine into my mouth. Sweetness floods my taste buds, and I hide a small, secret smile of victory.
Jax might be onto something with these Jolly Ranchers.