Page 44 of The Impossible

He interrupted my statement. “Did you stop me?”

“Nope. Why would I turn down a free massage?” I watched him button his shirt. He looked so good I didn’t mind being late and getting fussed out. As normal, he was in all black, but his bowtie was crystal blue to match my dress. It was a small compromise, even though his signature was all black.

“Exactly.”

I didn’t respond, but instead stood in the mirror taking myself in. I knew I looked good and the little extra weight I’d put on had gone into all the right places. I turned around and he was looking at me.

His eyes glossed my frame before they landed and stayed on my face. “You look beautiful as fuck, which is why we’re not only gonna get there late, but leave early as fuck.”

“And here I thought you said we wouldn’t be staying long for safety reasons.”

“That too. I don’t need you in the space too long with motherfuckers who want your head. It’s bad enough I agreed to play nice until I get what I need.”

I approached him, fixing his bowtie. “No, that isn’t bad. You’re crossing your Is and dotting your Ts before you make a decision that will reflect badly on your family. And yes, I know I said that wrong, but you know what I mean.”

He grinned. “Crossing Ts and dotting Is, my love. And regardless of all that, you are my fucking family and you don’t seem to give a shit about how I reflect.” His hands were at my waist, pulling me into his embrace.

“That’s not what I meant and you know that.”

That grin that held my heart captive these last few weeks appeared. “Whatever the fuck that means.” Then he ducked his head and kissed me.

Long. Deep. Intense.

Three and a half hours later, we were entering the hospital and of course he had his hand locked in mine. Cameras flashed and people spoke, but my attention was locked on him. His presence and our connection grounded me. He knew this wasn’t my scene and I preferred wild animals to people.

We descended the steps into the main room, him holding me closely while I mentally obsessed about how many people were in attendance at this thing.

Once we were on the floor, his mother and father approached. A hug and a cheek kiss later, Mama Carter had her arm looped in mine as we approached the wine bar.

“You look stunning and you complement each other very well.”

I grinned. “Thank you. This place looks beautiful.” The decorations in the massive room made it seem as though we were in a ballroom and not a hospital. We were here in celebration of the wing dedicated to Hondo’s grandfather on his mother’s side, the late Moses Bethune.

She smiled and looked around. “It is, isn’t it? What are you drinking tonight?”

“As of right now, sparkling water. I’ve been a bit dehydrated lately.”

She cut her eyes in my direction, a grin spreading her lips. Then, she ordered herself a wine and myself a sparkling water like I asked.

“Is dehydrated code for me getting an early Christmas?”

I should have known that question was coming, any and everything heightened her frenzy for grandchildren.

“Patience Carter,” she said and narrowed those eyes at me in a way only a mother could. I loved how easily Carter fit behind my first name rather than O’Leary.

“No, it is not code for pregnant, and if I wa⁠—”

“Ma, why you got my baby over here hemmed up choosing her words?” Hondo’s voice interrupted my statement as he stepped up behind me. Saved by the bell.

His mother’s beautiful bronze face contorted into a knowing smile before she tilted it to the side and her hand landed on her thigh. “My baby too and I asked her a question that maybe you can answer.”

Hondo laughed.

“Be careful, son, anything from your mouth at this moment will be used against you,” his father chimed in and we all laughed as well.

“Mama, we don’t know yet. We ain’t keeping score nor are we hitting up pharmacies for tests. It’s gonna happen when it happens,” he responded, to ease his mother’s nerves.

Her brows raised. “So wait, that means th⁠—”