Page 321 of By His Vow
The arrogant jerk really can get anything he wants.
His obvious show of power and wealth didn’t irritate me to the level it once did, but I didn’t let him know that. Instead, I told him what the old me would have said and teased him relentlessly about it.
Not that he cared. He just shrugged it off like he usually does before pulling me into his arms and distracting me the best way he knows.
I made the most of the week he granted me here and took him to every place I remember. We strolled through numerous Cotswold villages hand in hand, soaking up the spring sun and the quaint Britishness. We ate pie and mash in pubs and had takeout fish and chips. I even made him a Sunday roast like Aunt Lena used to. It was…well, it was nowhere near as good as hers. The parsnips resembled pieces of coal, the potatoes weren’t crunchy on the outside and fluffy on the inside, and the gravy was lumpy as hell, but despite all its issues, Kingston ate it and did his best to convince me that I did a good job.
I didn’t. It fucking sucked. But I appreciated the gesture all the same.
We left the cottage and the village that holds so much of my heart two days before we were due to fly out so that we could spend some time in London. I hadn’t done it for years, and he’s only ever been for business. We did all the tourist things and walked until the soles of my feet were tender, but it was worth it.
By the time we were sitting at our departure gate at Heathrow Airport, I was exhausted, so incredibly happy, but ready to go home.
I love England; I love Aunt Lena’s house and the beautiful village it’s located in. But right now, Chicago is my home. It’s where my heart is. Well, when he’s not chasing me across the Atlantic to confess his undying love, that is.
“Did you tell Miles what time we land?” I ask once we’ve finally retrieved our luggage from the belt and are heading toward arrivals to hopefully find a car waiting for us.
I slept on the flight, but it was restless and uncomfortable. I’m longing to crawl into Kingston’s massive bed and sleep for a week.
Sadly, though, that’s going to have to wait a little longer, because he’s already secured us a doctor’s appointment for later today.
No matter how much I try and convince him that everything is fine, that a doctor isn’t really necessary at this point, he refuses to accept it.
As annoying as it might be, it’s also sweet as hell, so I’m happy to go along with it.
When we haven’t been out exploring together or rolling around in bed this past week, he’s been reading up on the first stages of pregnancy.
The first time I found him researching was in the middle of our first night in the cottage. His jet lag was kicking his ass, and he was wide awake. He was so invested in what he was reading that he didn’t notice me approach, and when I dropped down beside him and saw what he was reading, his cheeks heated with embarrassment.
“I just want to know what to expect and to understand what you’re going through,” he said to me. I swear to God, it was the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard him say.
Every day since, he’s been happily telling me all the facts he’s learned about the first trimester, and then also what to expect as we move into the second and third.
Every time he says something new, I fall a little harder in love with him. His excitement is contagious too. And while I was unsure about what I truly wanted my future to look like when I ran from Chicago, now I know without a doubt.
I want Kingston. I want our little family. I want to be standing by King’s side as he and Miles take Warner Group by storm and turn it back around. I want to be a part of it all.
“I don’t think I mentioned it, no,” he says as we march through the doors to a small crowd of people waiting to collect loved ones. “Why?”
“Because he’s right—” I don’t get a chance to finish my sentence, because Miles takes off running in our direction and engulfs me in a hug.
“Or maybe I did,” I hear Kingston mumble before Miles exclaims, “You’re back,” and holds me even tighter.
“Whoa, gentle,” Kingston chastises, having moved closer. “You don’t want to squash your niece or nephew.”
Miles tenses while I silently fume at Kingston.
“We weren’t meant to be telling anyone,” I point out.
“Miles isn’t anyone, he’s?—”
“You’re pregnant,” a very familiar female voice screeches before Lori emerges from behind Miles, quickly followed by Kian.
“Bro, you knocked her up?”
Turning, I glare at Kingston who just shrugs, uncaring that everyone in our inner circle is now aware of our little secret.
“Yes,” I confirm, “but we’re not telling anyone yet because it’s early and?—”