Samantha Young E-Bundle: Castle Hill, Until Fountain Bridge, One King's Way(16)

He had a freaking answer for everything. “Fine,” I grumbled. “I’m sorry for being pissed. I guess I was a little edgy. . . .”

“Because I mentioned kids again?”

I tensed against him. “I just . . . I want to wait a few years, but I don’t want you to be upset about that. I don’t want to disappoint you.”

I quickly found myself on my back, my husband braced over me. “You’re not,” he promised. “We’ll wait.”

In answer I kissed him.

Thinking back on it, I kissed him so I didn’t have to see the disappointment he was trying so hard to hide.





Chapter 6


The Homecoming


Something nudged me into consciousness, but I refused to open my eyes. Instead I kept my face buried in the warm, familiar skin of Braden’s neck.

It became clear that the thing that woke me was my husband. I could feel him trying to extricate himself from my hold as gently as possible.

I held on tighter.

Braden shook against me, his tone rumbling with laughter as he asked, “Am I not allowed out of bed this morning?”

“Nope,” I mumbled against his skin. “If you move, I’ll have to move. If I have to move it means facing the fact that we’re no longer in Hawaii. I don’t know if I’m ready to deal with that.”

He rolled me onto my back, laughing at the fact that I refused to open my eyes. “So is the plan to stay here forever?”

“Yes.”

“That might become a problem.”

I shook my head against the pillows. “I don’t foresee any problems. It’s a sound plan.”

“Well.” Braden sighed. “We will eventually start to smell. And needing the toilet might become a problem. And with your issues with flatulence—”

I punched him on the arm, opening my eyes so I didn’t miss. My husband fought me off, laughing as though he was the funniest man on earth.

“One year,” I growled at him. “All I’m asking for is one year without you bringing that up!”

“You getting adorably embarrassed when you fart in front of me?”

After throwing him a narrow-eyed glare, I rolled off the bed. “I am not adorable,” I snapped, stomping out of the bedroom.

“You’re f*cking adorable!” he called to me as I made my way into the kitchen. I rolled my eyes. Braden could be pretty adorable, too, but he’d like it even less than me if I told him that.

I reached for the kettle, about to call through and ask if he wanted coffee when a wave of nausea caught me completely off guard and I found myself swaying against the counter.

“Babe, you okay?” Braden rushed to my side, grasping my hip in his hand.

Breathing through my nose, I fought to hold the sickness down. After a moment I rested my forehead on his chest. “I don’t feel so great.”

I felt his lips in my hair. “Jet lag. Sit down.” He ushered me toward the kitchen table and planted my ass at it. As he began to make the coffee the nausea rose again and I knew this time there was no fighting it. Without a word I shot up from the table and rushed out of the kitchen to the bathroom.

The toilet lid was barely up when I heaved everything inside me into it.

“Jocelyn?” I could feel Braden behind me.

I waved him off. “I’ll be okay.”

Sensing I wanted privacy, he left.

After waiting a few moments to make sure the nausea was dealt with, I got up on shaky legs and washed and brushed my teeth. Seeing my pale face in the mirror, I glowered at it.

Home sweet freaking home.

“Better?” Braden asked as I entered the kitchen.

“Yeah,” I smiled, gratefully accepting the coffee. “Much.”

***

Sitting in the waiting room, listening to people cough and sniffle, I felt breakable for the first time in a long time. My chest was heavy, like the air all around me was much too thin, and my thoughts were too harried, making me feel like a crazy person.

I just needed to know one way or the other.

If I knew . . .

I just needed to know.

“Jocelyn Carmichael, Room Five, Dr. Orr.”

Here we go. . . .

***

Braden was sprawled in the armchair, his shirt sleeves rolled up, his tie askew, and he was staring at the television as if he was only half-interested in what was going on.

He’d had a long day at work.

I’d just had a long day.

And now I was terrified. Terrified of answers. Terrified of f*cking up. Of losing . . . everything.

We’d been home from Hawaii for almost four weeks and I’d been hiding my sickness from Braden ever since that first morning. After a visit to the doctor’s that day I was almost sure of the diagnosis, but I wouldn’t know until they called to confirm the results.

“Jocelyn?”

I turned my head to look at my husband.

He was frowning at me in concern. “What’s wrong, babe?”

“Nothing,” I whispered, my heart beating hard against my ribs.

“It’s not nothing. You’ve been quiet. Tense.”

I shrugged. “I’m just on tenterhooks waiting to see if that lit agent in New York wants to sign me.”

After months and months of rejection letters I’d gotten an e-mail back from a lit agent from one of the top agencies in New York asking me for the first three chapters of my manuscript. When she e-mailed back asking to see the rest, I couldn’t believe it. I’d been trying not to get my hopes up, and my secret worry was helping keep my mind off it.