Consumed by Truths (Truth or Lies 6)

“Wow,” I say, pressing my hand over her stomach again.

“It’s pretty unreal, isn’t it?”

I grab her neck and kiss her again, not believing my life right now. Only yesterday, I thought I would never have this—a family. I thought Kai was dead. Our baby dead.

But then everything changed, and I get a second chance. I won’t waste it.

“We should raise them here, in this house, far away from everyone else. Although, we may have to kick your father out of the state and do a background check on every person in the town.”

She laughs. “I’m not kicking him out of town. But I don’t think we can stay here, at least not forever.”

“Why not?”

She sits up. “We have a lot to talk about.”

I nod. I don’t want to talk. I want to stay in our little bubble—forever.

I hand her my T-shirt to wear, and I put my boxers back on.

“Do you think your father stocked the house with any food?” I ask.

“Only one way to find out.”

I take her hand and lead her out of the bedroom and down the stairs to the kitchen.

“Holy shit! I thought I’d never want to leave my house on the beach in Miami. I was a beach guy through and through, but being here and seeing this view out the window, I may change my mind,” I say wrapping Kai in my arms.

She nods. “It’s beautiful here, isn’t it? I never thought I’d become a mountain girl either. But I’ve been as happy as I could be here these last few weeks.”

I kiss her hair again. “I could get used to this—domestic living. Get a normal job. Maybe become a fisherman or something.”

She raises an eyebrow and laughs.

“What? You don’t think I could be a fisherman?”

“No, you could. It’s just the same job my father got when he moved here.”

“Oh,” I say, no longer wanting to become a fisherman. “Well, I’m sure I can get a boat and do whale watching tours or something.”

She laughs harder. “You? A tour guide? You would be the grumpiest tour guide ever.”

“Fine, well good thing we don’t need money, then.”

“Yes, because we would probably starve with you as a tour guide,” she chuckles again.

I roll my eyes with a small grin as I walk to the fridge. There is a carton of eggs, and I spot some spinach, mushrooms, and tomatoes.

“Feel like an omelet?” I ask.

She makes a disgusted face.

“It’s that or…” I open the pantry. “Donuts.”

“Donuts!” she shouts.

I frown. “Are you feeding my babies anything but sugar?”

She laughs. “Yes, I am. Fine, make me an omelet topped with one donut.”