Crazy for Loving You: A Bluewater Billionaires Romantic Comedy(83)

“I’ve got her,” Alessandro says with a sigh.

“You know you’re my favorite.”

“Next week’s my anniversary.”

“And you know you’re getting a good raise even if you don’t deal with her.” I peck him on the cheek and gesture for West’s family to follow me to the kitchen, where we find the man himself hunched over a massive plate of cheesy scrambled eggs.

His dark hair is sticking up at odd angles. There are dark circles under his eyes. And even his shoulders look tired.

But he still leaps to his feet, fully wide awake, as soon as we parade in. “Oh, fuck,” he mutters.

“Go back to bed.” I go up on tiptoe and kiss his cheek too. “I’ve got ‘em.”

“But—they’re—fuck,” he finishes again.

“Westley. That’s no way to greet your mother.” His mom’s eyes are twinkling like flying down to Miami where her son inherited a baby with me is just another day in the life, and she can’t wait to whip out his baby pictures and swap embarrassing tales with my mom.

“I was talking about them.” He gestures with his fork to his sisters, who are all pretending to be talking to the baby in my mom’s arms while they eyeball all of us.

“They were worried about you.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “They wanted to meet Daisy.”

“That too,” the short one says. “Initial indications are that we could get along, but so far, I’ve only been promised frozen yogurt.”

“My grandmother’s in my office,” I murmur to him. “But all is not lost. I keep spare tubs in the freezer.”

“That freezer?” he points to my built-in Subzero.

“Nope. This one.” I pull open a cabinet under the island, which is half-stocked with pre-mixed frozen margaritas, and half-stocked with froyo.

Remy starts crying all over again.

And West’s sisters step up to the challenge.

“Does he have gas?”

“Does he need to poop?”

“One time, Mia screamed for six hours because she’d gotten a hair tied around her toe.”

“The twins used to take turns screaming like that. They’d feed off each other. Be glad you only have one.”

“My oldest used to scream anytime we held her facing outward.”

“My oldest would scream anytime we held him facing inward.”

“Babies are so complicated.

“And different.”

“He’s probably freaking out because there are seventeen million new people in here.”

“How much is he eating every day? Is he having a growth spurt?”

“Which kid was it who had their teeth come in at two months?”

“Oh, look, he’s lifting his head!”

West looks at them.

Looks at me.

Shakes his head with a half-smile. “You love this.”

“They’re. So. Awesome.”

He bends over, grabs a container of froyo, and finds a spoon. “They’re all yours. Come find me later.”

I lift a brow.

He just chuckles and keeps going.

He pauses to hug each of them, kisses each of them on the tops of their heads. But when he heads for the door, none of his family stops him.

They notice he’s going.

But his sisters trade grins that say they understand.

“Long night?” his mom asks me. She has a way of wording the question that makes me think she’s talking about more than just Remy not sleeping.

“The longest,” I reply. And I think I’m getting red in the cheeks.

Which makes my mom grin so big, her cheeks are about to crack.

And the weird thing is, I don’t think I mind that she’s hearing wedding bells.

Not one bit.





Thirty-Five





West



The noise from the kitchen has barely faded down the hallway when I run into someone who makes me appreciate my family on a level I never would’ve thought possible.

“Mr. Jaeger,” Imogen Carter sniffs.

“Mrs. Carter.” If she were my grandmother just being a butthead, I’d call her Satan and move on. But I think she honestly expects the world to bend to her, and I’m not in a mood to fight.

Besides, she can make Daisy’s life hell.

I’d like to avoid that.

Alessandro’s behind her, and he shoots me a look that simultaneously calls me a chicken and thanks me for not being a dick.

I’m gearing up for a fight when she steps calmly around me. “Have a nice day, Mr. Jaeger.”

That was…weird.

I cut a look to Alessandro, but he seems just as perplexed as I am that she didn’t take the opportunity to tell me she’s signed Remy up for ballroom dancing lessons.

A chill washes over me.

She doesn’t think I’ll be here long. I’m no longer her problem.

Fuck.

I believe Daisy when she says she’ll stand up to her grandmother, but Imogen’s hardly powerless.

My breathing is fast and choppy, and I remind myself I’m here to take it one day at a time. One fucking minute at a time if I need to.

We’ll be fine.