Chapter 40 #2
I hum, taking the glass of water from the server.
The cold, icy water trickles down my throat, calming my nerves, though I don’t know why.
My grandma was a superstitious woman. From what I can remember, she was a big believer in listening to her gut instincts.
Maybe I should. My nerves ball in the pit of my stomach.
Xander saunters over next. He carries himself with practiced nonchalance, but something lurks beneath the surface. Those familiar with him recognize the predatory edge to his smile, the way it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His smile is not for Lana; it’s for Toby.
A dangerous smile.
“How are you feeling?” Max asks, rubbing my belly.
“Better.” I do feel much better. Maybe it’s the anxiousness of the loud music and crowds.
His hand slides down to my thigh. He squeezes gently. “Good. If you don’t feel well, we can leave.”
I give him a nod and turn to Lana. “Thank you for assisting Max and helping him find someone to hire to decorate.”
She takes my hand, staring at the engagement ring. “It’s a beautiful ring. I’m so happy for you two.”
Ten servers in crisp white shirts and black aprons emerge from the swinging kitchen doors in perfect synchrony, each balancing oval trays laden with steaming plates.
They fluidly move between tables with practiced precision, bending at the waist to deliver aromatic dishes that leave trails of savory scent in their wake.
“They’re serving dinner first, then the fights start.” Max points to two rings in the far corner I hadn’t noticed. “It’s an amateur fight; all bets go to the foundation.”
Yes, of course, Drake has to fight.
On the opposite side is an open space. The polished white marble floor, veined with threads of silver and gold, mirrors the extravagant crystal chandelier hanging above, its hundreds of tear-shaped pendants catching the light and scattering tiny hues of color across the glossy surface, like fallen stars.
A woman dressed in an elegant white dress plays the piano with a beautiful sway as her back bows. Her fingers move at a fluid speed.
Max twists to catch my gaze. “Do you want to dance?” he offers, not a demand like months ago, but it seems like years have passed.
A smile draws on my face. He’s not one for dancing, but he’s good at it. “You’re not much of a dancer,” I tell him.
“No, but with you I am. If it puts a smile on your beautiful face, then I’ll do it.”
I place a hand on his broad chest. “I’ll save you the trouble. We can eat, and if you’re up for it, we can dance later. My feet are a little swollen.” My hands and feet have been swelling for the past few weeks and will continue to do so for the next four months.
He taps his thigh. “Let me take care of it.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “We are here with tons of people and food at the table. I’m not taking my heels off.” It was probably not a good idea to wear heels. Not probably. I shouldn’t have.
“Why? Do your feet stink?”
“No…well, I hope not. They might be sweaty.” I laugh some more.
Max only grins. “You’re pregnant. I think you get a free pass.” He scoots my chair inward so the white silk tablecloth covers my feet. Then he slides my one foot on his meaty thigh.
Slowly, he removes the heel, and his thick fingers work magic, thrusting deep into my soles.
I want to cry in pain, then sigh in relief.
A waitress slides a warm plate in front of me, then leaves one for those at our table.
The only one not here yet is Drake; he must be somewhere getting ready.
The steam of herb-roasted chicken, a baked potato topped with butter, sour cream, and chives, and a warm roll make my stomach do somersaults. I hadn’t realized I was this hungry.
“It tastes good.” Lana cuts into her moist chicken. “It’s not even dry.”
Toby nods, doing the same. “I agree, but it could use a bit more seasoning and larger portions.”
Before setting my foot down, Max slips my heel on, then works on the other foot. Damn, it feels good, even better if I were home soaking in some Epsom salt. “Go on, eat.”
“I’ll wait for you.”
“Better?” he asks, setting my foot down.
“Yes, thank you.”
“Anytime.” He scoots his chair back and whispers, “I’m going to wash my hands real quick.”
I give him a cheerful smile and turn my attention toward the two men having a conversation about boxing.
After Lana spilled wine on her chair, Toby moved her, and now she’s wedged between the two men.
Xander’s lips are curled while Toby talks his socks off with a conversation Xander is not interested in.
Xander’s hand slowly moves under the table.
I’m certain that by the wide eyes Lana has, his hand is planted on her thigh.
I avert my gaze toward Leo, his gaze on his plate cutting into his chicken, steam rolling out of it.
“How’s your meal?” I ask Leo.
He shrugs. “Good. They should offer seconds.”
Since he’s been staying with us, the house feels like a home.
Hector and Leo. Although Max complains about privacy, I know he loves having them around.
My gaze catches Drake. Gone is that boy I remember, who was in love with a girl he dreamed a thousand dreams with, only for her to shatter it.
Now he carries a scowl on his handsome face.
When I ask if he’ll ever fall in love again, he shrugs.
It seems she had ruined him. When his gaze catches mine, his smile appears.
“Sunny, how are you doing?” Strong arms envelop me in a gentle hug.
“I’m doing pretty good. How have you been? You’re not getting into any trouble, are you?”
He works up a cocky grin. “Trouble is my name, Sunny.”
“Of course you would say that.”
He rubs my belly—it seems to be what everyone does. “How are the little kiddos doing? Are you ready for them?”
Max and I had shopped for the babies a couple of weeks ago.
It was the most fun I’ve had shopping, and I know Max felt the same way.
Especially with baby clothes. They were the cutest. So tiny.
We bought two cribs, two bassinets, two car seats, and so on.
His truck was loaded. We haven’t set anything up yet.
Max plans on painting the nursery first.
“I’m nervous, but I’m ready.”
“You’ll do great. You both will,” Drake assures me.
I turn my gaze to my fiancé. Two men stop him when he’s near.
They appear familiar. Other fighters, probably.
Max’s profile has not changed. He still carries the broody structure, his clenched jaw, his eyes give nothing away—closed off.
Unreadable. To those in his circle, he gives them a smile that reaches his eyes, and his irises go from a storm greenish-gray to light shining behind them.
When his greens connect with mine, that smirking smile appears.
Reserved for me. His irises storm with an untamable love.
When we were young, innocent kids, and crushed on one another, I always admired how he only smiled at me, joked around, and he would talk his socks off.
To everyone else, he was quiet…reserved.
He showed me who he was. I claimed him. He’s mine. He beckons for me to go to him.
I squeeze Drake’s shoulder. “Have a seat, hon. I’ll have them bring you up a plate.” He gives me a small vibrating laugh. I know I sound like an older woman saying “hon” and “honey.” It stuck with me when my adoptive mom would call us that all the time.
“Sure, I’ll save for after the fight.”
Right. That makes me nervous.
Max’s hand placement is on the small of my back as he introduces me to the two men.
Former professional boxers. They point to their wives who are out in the crowd mingling.
They wander off into the sea of people, and I excuse myself for the restroom.
I love being pregnant, but the nausea, uncomfortable sleeping, and peeing are driving me crazy.
After washing my hands and disposing of the paper towel, the door swings open. A gasp leaves my lips.