Baby Yours – Hunter & Lennon (Roommate Duet 2)

Lennon laughs and leans back, putting space between us. “You’re something else, Manning. That I know for a fact.”

Before I can ask her what that means, she grabs her phone and walks toward the kitchen. “Is that bacon I smell?”

“Sure is,” I confirm, and my smirk deepens when her face lights up.

We each make a plate of eggs, toast, and, of course, bacon. My favorite morning routine includes us having breakfast together, so now that she’s back to work for the school year, I’m glad we’ll get to do it again.

Just as I’m about to get up and rinse my plate, Lennon stands and comes toward me. “I need to post on Instagram today for the first day back!”

She sits on my lap and wraps an arm around my shoulders, bringing our faces together. “We need to look sad.”

I snort, furrowing my brows. “What? Why?”

Her shoulders slouch. “Because I’m going back to work, and we won’t get to spend as much time together.”

Fuck, that is sad and sucks if she’s being real.

Lennon holds out her phone, clicks on the camera, and gives me a two-second warning. She pouts with her lower lip sticking out, and I do the same before she takes the shot.

“Okay, one more,” she says after checking the photo.

We get back into position, and right before she clicks, she presses her soft lips to my cheek, surprising the shit out of me. Then just as quickly as it happened, it’s over.

“Super cute.” She looks at the photo, then shuffles off me.

And now I need to sit here for just a second.

I don’t know how long she plans to update her Instagram or pretend we’re married, but I continue to go along with it for her sake even though she knows my true feelings. At this point, I’m a pro at pushing them to the side to protect my own heart.

“First day back to work and going to miss my honey pie,” she speaks as she types, then looks up at me and winks at the nickname she always hated. “Hashtag newlyweds, hashtag wifey, hashtag bae.”

I raise my brows at her ludicrous hashtags. Even though it’s all an act and she’s doing it for her parents’ benefit, she’s been posting pregnancy shots and anything baby and married life related. All of the clothes her mother bought, our rings, dinners she’s cooked, basically anything and everything. Part of me wonders if it’s overkill with all the posting because she really wishes those things were for real—but with Brandon.

“Adorable, right?” She sticks her phone in my face and swipes her finger to show me she posted both pictures.

Fuck me. Doesn’t she know this is torture?

For the past month, we’ve acted as if that night never happened, so I plaster on a smile and reply, “Definitely.”

I clean up the kitchen while she hops in the shower. Once the dishes are cleared, and I wipe the counters, I walk down the hallway and hear Lennon singing. Pausing, I stand outside the door and listen.

It’s a new one today. Straining to hear the lyrics, I eventually recognize the song. Lennon flawlessly belts out the words to “I Hope You Dance.” As always, her voice captivates me in every way. She sounds so passionate and sweet and I’ve come to love getting this front row seat every morning.

As Lennon sings about giving faith a fighting chance, I lean my forehead against the wood door and inhale a deep breath. I wish I could say how I want to fight for her, how I wish she’d fight for me, how it should’ve always been her and me—even though it feels wrong. I push all those feelings aside and ignore them, not allowing them to bring me to the dark side.

Willing myself to walk away, I go to my room and dress for work, hoping to get to the office early. I have plans to meet Mason and Liam during my lunch break and have a feeling it’s going to take the full hour. It’s been a while since we’ve hung out, and I haven’t told them the whole story on going to Utah with Lennon. I could only imagine what they’d say about it, and I didn’t need their bullshit attitudes while preparing for the trip, so I know it’s only a matter of time before it comes up in conversation.

“Hunter?” Lennon knocks on my door.

“Yeah?”

I’m buttoning up my shirt when she enters. The sight of her nearly takes my breath away. She’s wearing a black pencil skirt, stockings, and a maternity tank. She bought it last week when I finally forced her to admit she needed new clothes, especially for work. Luckily, Sophie and Maddie dragged her to the mall, and then she reluctantly showed me everything once they got back. It was adorable the way she pouted about it, but honestly, she looks amazing. Maybe it makes me a sick son of a bitch, but she’s somehow even more gorgeous pregnant.