Marrying My Billionaire Boss

He looks at me like he can’t decide if he should cry or hug me. I knew he would be touched.

“Um. I thought we’d make something else for your mom.” He clears his throat.

“She doesn’t really eat breakfast. Just coffee is fine.”

“Uh-huh.” Nate eyes two servings of shake on the counter. I can see some internal debate fleeting through his gorgeous face.

Finally, he says, “Look, Evie, you don’t have to drink one just to suit me. I don’t even really li—”

“Nonsense! It tastes amazing! I love it!” I hand him his glass, and take mine. “Cheers!” I clink our glasses.

Nate smiles brightly—probably thrilled I’m doing a better job of ensuring that I get sufficient nutrients—and starts drinking.

Pleased with myself, I chug mine down. I can feel all the antioxidant goodness and hydration coursing through my veins, infusing me with super health. Okay, maybe it isn’t happening instantly—it hasn’t even been digested—but it’s lovely anyway.

“I can see why you insist on this every morning.” I put a hand over my belly. “I think the baby’s taking after Daddy.”

“I’m…” Nate’s smile is even wider now. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. Just be happy.”

“I’m happy. Very, very happy.” He clears his throat. “Can we have some coffee?”

“Actually, I can’t. I don’t think I’m supposed to.”

“Oh.” He looks concerned again. “Are you sure you don’t want anything else, though? Maybe yogurt? Berries?”

I beam at him. “I’m fine. Really.”

He nods slowly. “Well then. Let me get the coffee started.”

“I can do that for you,” I say out of habit.

“It’s okay. Really, you don’t have to be like my assistant here.” He goes to the coffeemaker and makes enough for two.

“But I am your assistant.”

“Sure, at the office. But we’re at home, and this is the weekend.”

Ah. That’s sweet, I think with a smile, although there’s no way I’m letting him select his own clothes.

“I can make my own coffee.” As soon as the brewing is done, he downs his quickly.

I don’t know why he’s in such a hurry. I don’t mind if he wants to take his time and enjoy his java.

“I’m going to shower,” he says.

I grin. “Let me go with you.”

Just then, Mom comes down, and I realize that Morning Shower Fun isn’t going to happen. I should spend some time with her, especially since she doesn’t look any less worried. She’s trying to hide it, but I know her too well not to notice.

“Actually, you go ahead,” I say to Nate.

He looks at me, then at Mom, sighs slightly and goes upstairs.

Mom’s in a white T-shirt and soft jeans. She takes a stool by the counter, and I serve her the rest of the coffee. She takes it black. Says it’s better that way, but I also suspect she likes it that way because it’s cheaper—no need for cream or sugar.

I take a stool next to hers, running my sweaty palms on my shorts. Why do I feel like I’m back in high school and got caught sneaking out late? “Hi, Mom.”