Page 117 of Good For Me

But it could be worse, right? It’s a steady job. It’s not difficult physical labor. I don’t have anything to complain about.

“River—”

“What about you?” I interrupt, turning back to the drinks on the counter and effectively stepping out of her arms. “School go okay today?”

“Aced my Stats test.”

This time when I turn to her, my smile is genuine. “Of course you did. Told you that you were going to kick ass.” I press a kiss to her lips, the feel of her close to me melting away any remaining tension I might have felt about my day. “How many weeks left now?”

“Only four.”

“Wow.” I kiss her again. “You’re almost a college graduate.”

“I kind of can’t believe it,” she says, laughing. “I wish I could go back and tell some of my high school teachers that I not only got into school but I’m finishing it.”

“Finishing it magna cum laude,” I correct. “My girl is crazy smart.” I pause, wanting to ask her about her plans but not wanting to start something. She’s been defensive about this every time it’s come up. “Any more thought about the next term?”

Sure enough, she scowls.

I’ve been trying to convince her to take the semester off, defer her grad school entrance until next fall. With the baby coming in the spring, I think she should just wait. The idea of her rushing to finish end of year exams—at a master’s level—right around the due date doesn’t seem like a great plan.

Especially because whenever the subject of her MBA comes up, she looks about as excited as I do when we talk about my job.

“I’m not deferring,” she says, a familiar stubborn streak in her voice. I bite my tongue even though I want to argue.

“We should celebrate,” I say, changing the subject. “Acing that exam definitely deserves better than take-out with Bodhi and Everly.” The scowl dissipates a little, and I grin, knowing just what she’s thinking. “Mac and cheese at June’s?”

As her second trimester has progressed, she’s been going through food cravings at a rapid pace. None of them have been weird—maybe the ice cream and pickles thing is a myth—but they’ve been incredibly intense. First it was hamburgers, which she couldn’t seem to get enough of for weeks. Then, suddenly, the very thought of them made her go green in the face. After that, she would beg me to make her grilled cheese sandwiches every single day. Once, when I had to tell her we’d run out of bread, she literally burst into tears.

Right now, the big craving is mac and cheese. Specifically, the mac and cheese at her grandfather’s diner. I’m not exactly sure why—it’s not like the stuff is close to gourmet. It’s probably the exact same mass-produced mac and cheese they sell at a thousand chain restaurants around the country. But she says nothing else tastes right.

“We’ve eaten there like four times this week,” she points out.

I shrug. “I don’t mind. You know how I feel about their chicken fingers.”

She laughs. “God, our kid is going to have such a sophisticated palette. Mac and cheese and chicken fingers.”

“Those are two of the most important food groups.”

She laughs again and pushes away from me. I let her go reluctantly. “I’m gonna go change. You need to shower?”

“Only if you’re coming in there with me.”

She graces me with my favorite smile—the slightly wicked one she only gets when she’s thinking about sex. “That’s going to have to wait until later. Preferably when your cousin and Bodhi are asleep.”

“We wouldn’t have to wait if you could just learn how to be quiet when I go down—”

She slaps a hand over my mouth and I grin against her fingers. For a self-proclaimed wild child, she gets pretty flushed whenever my conversation veers toward anything slightly dirty outside of the bedroom. In there, though, my girl has a delightfully filthy mouth.

I follow her upstairs, eager to get out of this tie. Not everyone at the office wears them—it is a rock label, after all. Business casual is more dressed up than plenty of people get—but I feel the need to present myself as professionally as possible. Enough of the people in that building already think I’m only there because of who my dad is.

They’re right. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to prove them wrong.

“You’re tense again,” Jas says a while later, once we’re in my Jeep. She reaches over to rub the space between my eyes. “You get this little line right here.”

“Hungry,” I grunt, not wanting to admit that it was thoughts of work getting in my head again. “Will Brie be working?”

Jas snorts. “She’s going to a basketball game tonight.”