THIRTY-TWO
Zeus
It takes me a moment to remember where the fuck I am when I wake. The bed is most definitely foreign—way too big to be ours. And fuck me, there’s a goddamn flat screen on the wall opposite us.
Oh, yeah. Belle’s surprise.
I had to have been fucking tired. She’d barely left the room last night and I was gone. Can’t even remember her coming to bed.
I roll to my right to check, and sure enough, she’s still out beside me. A slip of silvery lace runs over her shoulder, barely visible thanks to the blankets she has pulled tight around her.
God, I love this woman. I neglect her while working hard in the new job, and she still treats me to this.
“Morning, dove.” I whisper the sentiment in her ear before placing a soft kiss to her temple.
She doesn’t stir. Probably dog tired herself since she drove us here. Wherever the fuck that is. I slept most of the way, so again, I have no idea where here is. Only that it’s one hell of a hotel judging by the size of our room and the quality of the furnishings.
Light hints around the edges of the heavy drapes, a peek at the day beyond. I drag my sorry arse out of bed and pad across to the windows. What the hell? I’m still fully dressed, only my shoes on the floor. No wonder I was so damn hot.
The little card on the side table tells me we’re two hours south of Longdale at an alpine resort. I pull the drapes apart a fraction and peer out over our second-floor balcony. The view is nothing short of amazing. We’re situated partially up the mountainside, able to see the farmland below spread out like a tapestry. If I’ve guessed right, the mountains are behind us.
“You just got up?” Belle’s sleepy voice pulls me from my daze.
“Yeah.” I turn as she sits, the blankets falling away to reveal the stunning nightwear that I know for a goddamn fact is new.
Like I’d bloody forget her wearing that. And this girl is mine. I have to be the luckiest fucking guy around—seriously.
“I wasn’t that tired, was I?” Surely I can’t forget her in that?
Her face sours as she turns for the bathroom. “Depends what you mean.”
Eish. Definitely in the dog box. Whatever I did, or said, it was most definitely not the right thing.
Belle slips into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. What the fuck do I do in a situation like this? I’m assuming I need to go in there and apologise, but when I don’t know what for, how bad will that look?
I smack the home button on my phone to reveal the time—a little after nine—and note a new message from Jodie.
J: We’re out and about this morning, so was wondering if you’re still keen for a catch up this afternoon?
I cast a quick glance at the bathroom door before replying.
Z: Belle’s taken me away for the weekend, so raincheck.
I shed yesterday’s clothes while I wait to see if she’ll reply or leave the thread as is.
J: You’re supposed to be spoiling her, dumbass. Go. Turn your damn phone off.
I snort a laugh as I send the device to sleep.
“Who was that?” Belle stands in the bathroom doorway, eyes critical and not a trace of the sexy lingerie I didn’t get enough of a look at yet.
“Jodie. She wants to come visit when we’re both home next.”
“Huh.”
I frown when she turns away and gives me her back as she fusses with her bag. “What happened to that sexy lace I saw on you just before?”
“I took it off.”
“Why?” She continues to face away, even as I cross to where she stands and set my hands on her shoulders. “Thought I might have fun taking it off.”
Belle lets out a bitter huff, pulling from my hold as she crosses to the small kitchenette. “I was in the mood for that last night,” she snaps, jerking a mug from the cabinet. “But not so much now.”
“You’re mad because I fell asleep?” I lean a hip into the counter, watching her despite the fact she does everything she can to avoid making direct eye contact.
“No shit, I’m mad.”
“I was tired, Belle. I’ve had one hell of a week, and I can’t help if my body needs the downtime.”
“I get that, Zeus,” she snaps, finally looking at me.
Kind of wish she hadn’t.
“But you do that every fucking night at home, so excuse me for being selfish in wanting one night with you.”
“It’s not selfish,” I correct her. “But it’s hardly considerate, either. I’m whacked, dove. You know that. Jerry has the crew working—”
“Fuck your crew.” She slams the teaspoon into the empty mug. “I’ve had one hell of a week too, but you don’t seem the slightest bit interested in that.”
“You’re being unfair.”
“Am I?”
Who is this woman? The Belle I know doesn’t get mad at people for things that are beyond their control, like being dog-tired. The Belle I know would have looked at the bright side and said something stupid, like how at least we’re well-rested for a hot and heavy night tonight.
But this woman? Jesus—she reminds me of Cerise.
Don’t tell her that. Fuck. Whatever I do, I can’t tell her that.
“You know what?” She shunts the mug toward me. “You have this. I need fresh air.”
Belle whips across the room to her bag and tugs the zipper open. Her hands still, her focus on whatever she has packed in there. Belle’s lips twist, and she dives her free hand in to pull out a flat, rectangular box.
“Here. I made this for you.” She tosses it on the bed without a single fuck to give, and then storms from the hotel room. “Back later.”
The heavy thunk of the door as it closes behind her echoes around our hotel room. I eyeball that black-and-gold box, wondering why she’s made me a gift. It’s not my birthday, not an anniversary. What else has she got up her sleeve?
Curiosity draws me to the box, the silence of the room punctuated by the scrape of the lid as I tug it from the box base. I peel the layers of tissue paper back, fucking speechless at what lies within.
One of her artworks, framed.
But what sucks the oxygen from the room is the subject matter. She’s recreated my tattoo, yet this time there’s not just a serpent and the dove. No, this time the dove carries tiny baby booties in its beak rather than the olive branch.
It can’t be right. I fire blanks, don’t I?
The coffee sits abandoned on the counter as I throw my jacket on and head out the door after my baby girl. Hell. I probably shouldn’t call her that much longer, not when I might really have a baby girl on the way.
Here we were, bickering over who needed more attention, when all along she was dealing with this on her own.