Marrying My Billionaire Hookup

Later that evening, when I’m in bed, I get a text from Edgar.

–Edgar: Did you have a good day?

–Me: Yeah. You?

–Edgar: It was fine.

He’s saying fine, but I sense that there’s more. Is it because of my less-than-great mood?

–Me: Are you coming back soon?

–Edgar: Yes. Friday. I want to wrap things up faster, but everything seems to take ten times longer than it should.

Somehow I can’t stop myself. I type, I miss you, and hit send.

–Edgar: I miss you too.

I bite my lip, wondering if I should mention meeting his mother. Then I remember what Yuna said—that Edgar’s never happy when people bring her up.

In the end, I decide not to. He’s going to be back on Friday, and it isn’t like his mother and I are going to be seeing each other before then. I don’t plan on calling her, and I can just ignore her calls and texts. I can tell him at some point if it becomes necessary, and in the meantime, there’s no reason to pick at old wounds.

Chapter Forty-Six

Jo

When I open my eyes on Saturday, I’m in bed…which is weird. The last thing I remember is staying up to wait for Edgar, while watching some comedy show on Netflix and updating invoice statuses. Obviously, I fell asleep. But I don’t remember moving to the bed…

I twist around. Edgar’s pillow is dented, his side of the bed rumpled. So he came back last night after I dozed off.

Disappointment that I didn’t get to see him pools inside me. It’s only been five days, but I’ve missed him terribly.

I’m becoming used to having him around, I realize. I don’t know when it started. It hasn’t been even a week since we started living together. Our first meeting and him coming to barre to see me… They don’t count, do they?

I get up to go find him, then realize that I should visit the bathroom first. My bladder’s full, and I should have fresh breath when I see him.

A few minutes later I come out, bladder relieved, face washed, teeth scrubbed and finger-combing my hair.

“You’re awake.”

Edgar’s smooth voice is the best kind of surprise, like a song from my childhood. Already showered and dressed in a button-down shirt and slacks, he’s at the doorway with a small smile and holding two mugs.

A happy warmth suffuses me. Suddenly the penthouse feels more like home.

Our home.

“Hey! Good morning.” I smile. “When did you get here? I tried to wait up for you.”

“I know, but one of my meetings ran over, and I arrived very late last night. But I come bearing presents.” He kisses me. “Well…a present.”

He tastes like mint and Edgar.

“Mmm. That’s a great present,” I say.

“That wasn’t the present. You can have that anytime.” He hands me one of the mugs, then pulls me down so we’re sitting on the bed together. He gestures until I’m upright with my back supported by the pillows piled against the headrest.

He nods toward my mug. “For you. Caffeine-free ginger and herb tea. My assistant said it’s great for settling your stomach and making you feel more focused and energized when you’re pregnant.”

I perk up, since I need something to substitute for coffee. “Thank you.” The tea is a clear orange and smells amazingly refreshing—like ginger and flowers. I take a sip. Yummy. “It’s sweet.”