By the time the food arrives, I’ve calmed down to the point where I feel as if I’ve only snorted half a key of coke, not the entire thing.
She wants to have my babies.
She can deny it all she wants. She can make up any kind of lie. But the expression of longing on her face when we started talking about it will be seared onto my memory forever.
I let the room service lad into the room and sign the bill. I tip him four hundred percent, because holy fucking baby Jesus on a buttery Ritz cracker, Reyna Caruso wants me to get her pregnant.
I’m light-headed. My heart is palpitating. I have to guzzle two entire glasses of water before my mouth starts to feel normal again.
When I knock on the bathroom door, Reyna opens it reluctantly.
“Are you done cackling in glee yet?”
“I’m done,” I say, grinning. “When do you want to start working on getting you knocked up? Because I was thinking right now would be bloody grand.”
A flush of color spreads over her cheeks. She mutters, “I regret every decision in my life that has led me to this moment.”
I grab her and plant a hearty kiss on her mouth. When I pull away, she sighs.
“Ugh. You’re going to be really unbearable now.”
I pick her up. She’s still wrapped in the blanket, and makes a comfy, fuzzy weight in my arms. Setting her carefully onto the edge of the bed, I roll the room service cart over to her and start removing lids from dishes.
“Okay. We’ve got steak. We’ve got chicken. We’ve got veggies.”
She says, “And we’ve got two hundred side dishes. What happened, were they having a sale?”
“I couldn’t decide what I wanted, so I got one of everything.”
“Of course you did. And stop smiling like that. You’re blinding me.”
“Don’t be so grumpy. It’s bad for the baby.”
She flops onto her back on the bed and hollers incoherently at the ceiling.
“So dramatic,” I tease, feeling like an overfilled helium balloon. “Oh—is it too soon to start picking out names? Because I’ve got a bunch of ideas.”
Closing her eyes, she mutters, “Where’s a good asteroid strike when you need one?”
I make my voice firm. “And I want you to eat a lot of this steak. You’ll need the iron. Developing fetuses have high iron requirements.”
“Quinn?”
“Aye, lass?”
“You’re insane.” When I grin at her evil glare, she adds, “Certifiably. There’s a padded cell somewhere out there with your name on the door.”
My grin grows wider. “Casa de Spider. Love it. Now sit up and let me feed you.”
“I’m not an invalid!”
“Be quiet, or I’ll put something else in your mouth to shut you up.”
If a man could be killed with a look, I’d be dead a thousand times over.
I can’t remember ever feeling this happy in my entire life.
