Weights of Wrath (Cipher Office Book 4)

by Smartypants Romance

  “Nothing wrong with that.”

  “Nope. But in the last few months, she’s quit her job that makes bank, moved out of her fantastic apartment she loved, sold all her Gucci and Prada shit to buy diapers, and last week had to clean shit off the wall in the family bathroom attached to the pool.”

  “What? Someone shit on the wall?”

  “I stopped asking questions a long time ago. People are cagey sometimes. And Rosalind is the one bearing the brunt of all that right now. What have you done?”

  I admit that question is kind of offensive. “Did you not hear me? Everything I can think of from foot rubs to playing laser tag at the gift registry.”

  Abel barks out a laugh, likely because he knows how that ended. “You got banned from the store, didn’t you?”

  “Pretty close. Miss Chipper wasn’t so chipper after all.”

  “Somehow, I’m not surprised.” He sniffs and this smile falls from his face. “I’m not suggesting you aren’t doing a lot. What I’m saying is your life hasn’t changed much at all. You live in the same apartment, you have the same job, you’re still training for your dream competition. You’ve given up half your bed and a few hours of your time. That’s very different situation than the massive changes she’s going through, one right after the other. And if I know women, and I think I do…”

  I cock my eyebrow at him, but he ignores me.

  “… I live with three of them. I know a few things. My guess is Rosalind is feeling like she gave up everything but isn’t sure for what. Yes, it’s for the baby. But how does she know you aren’t going to bail on her? You’ve been so focused on the baby, you haven’t told her how you feel about her.”

  “But… she hasn’t told me how she feels about me either.”

  He cocks his head. “So, she can scare you off?”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m not going to be scared off. You know me better than that.”

  “I do. But does she? She’s lived with you what, four months? Five? That’s not a lot of time to build trust in a relationship. It’s a start, but remember, these circumstances are different. There’s a lot more at stake and she has a lot more to lose if things go south. Add in hormones, an aching back, maybe a hemorrhoid…”

  As much as I hate to admit it, Abel has a good point. I’ve been trying so hard to help her feel comfortable with the idea of being a parent, I’ve forgotten she also needs to feel good about us.

  “I need to take her on a date.”

  Abel smiles and nods. “You should have taken that first step a long time ago. Make your intensions toward her known.”

  “Yeah,” I say with a nod as ideas begin running through my thoughts. “She needs to know how I feel about her. Thanks, Abel. For once, you have some advice I can actually use.”

  He shoves me and stands up. “Let’s clean all this up. You need me to help you stretch out all this shredding?”

  I shake my head and follow him to the abandoned equipment for cleanup. “Always trying to get me lying down with my legs up, aren’t you?”

  He laughs and smacks me upside the head—the true sign of manly love.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  ROSALIND

  This couch has become my favorite spot in the apartment. It really might not be as comfortable as I think, but it’s the first place to drop after climbing all those stairs to get home. I knew when I moved in that it would be rough to climb them every day, but I wasn’t thinking about how hard it would be with a giant heavy basketball sticking out of my abdomen. Not only is my balance off, my back aches from carrying the extra weight. I freely admit to having to stop and get my breathing under control at every landing. I wonder what our landlords would think of us adding one of those fancy chairs to ride up every day. After the baby is born, I could use it to carry groceries instead. I’ll have to pitch the idea to Joey.

  Regardless, I’m here now enjoying some trash TV and veggie straws that have become my snacking obsession over the last couple weeks. I’m comfy, my taste buds are happy, and I’m not moving unless this place catches on fire or I have to pee. So that means I have about thirty minutes until I move, and not because I foresee any flames.

  The door flies open just as Maury is about to announce who the father is.

  “Hey!” I yell as I continue to shovel this faux potato goodness in my mouth. “I wanted to know who got her knocked up.”

  Joey glances over at the television and then back at me. “You know those are reruns, right? You can probably google it.”

  “It’s not the same.” I toss the bag onto the table and lick my fingers off. I refuse to miss out on any of the salt. “How was work, anyway? Got any new old-lady stories for my listening pleasure?”

  Joey’s little-old-lady class has become the highlight of my day. Not just the funny anecdotes he comes home with, but because they constantly fawn over me whenever they’re headed into the locker room. I’m not sure why it feels different when the elderly rub my belly than when anyone else does it, but I don’t mind their wrinkly hands. Maybe I just like old people. These ladies in particular are ancient enough that they have no filter and give zero fucks about it. If those are the required traits of age, I’m going to be the most entertaining elderly woman ever someday.

  Joey lifts my legs and sits down on the opposite end of the couch, immediately placing my feet in his lap and starts rubbing my calves. One thing I’ve learned about him over the last few months is he really likes to touch me. Not in a sexual way, although I’d be lying if I said he didn’t like doing that, too. But, in general, he’s just a touchy person. My shoulder, my back, my forearm—he’s very physically affectionate.

  “There weren’t any old-lady fights today,” he says. “But Edna did ask if I’m servicing you appropriately, so your body is ready to give birth.”

  I snort a laugh, because of course she did.

  “And did you tell her you are making sure to fuck me with your fingers, tongue, and giant cock every night so I can sleep?”

  “Uh, no. I don’t trust her not to ask details about my performance.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll let her know I’m a very satisfied woman.” I attempt a flirty grin, but I might have veggie straw crumbs around my mouth. By his reaction, I’m either successful in my seduction, or he’s hungry and wants to lick my face.

  “Stop looking at me like that. I have plans for us this evening, and I don’t want to get distracted by your fantastic body.”

  I want to focus on what he just said about me being hot, but I have bigger issues. “What do you mean plans?”

  I didn’t realize it was possible, but with the way he shrugs and the slight bite of his lip, he looks almost shy. “I was hoping to take you on a date.”

  “A date?” I wasn’t expecting that at all. My heart does a little pitter-patter, but I don’t want to get ahead of myself either.

  “Yeah. Just you and me, getting to know each other. Doing something together that doesn’t have anything to do with this third wheel right here.” His big hand sprawls across my even bigger belly and he rubs. I know Joey loves this baby more than anything, but I appreciate him wanting to get to know me, too. The thought of it makes me happy. Giddy even. It also terrifies me because what if he doesn’t like what he sees? Also, the idea of walking those steps again makes me kind of want to retch.

  “I can’t go on a date with you.”

  His looks crestfallen. “Why not?”

  I go with the easier-to-explain excuse. “I make one trip up and down those stairs every day. I refuse to do more.”

  “I can carry you.”

  I have no doubt he’ll follow through on that promise, but it’s more than that. I close my eyes because I don’t want to admit the truth, but I have to.

  “I don’t have anything to wear,” I say quietly, embarrassed to even say it out loud. A few months ago, I would use that same excuse and it meant everything in my closet bored me or I was PMSing. Now, it means I genuinely don’t have any appropriate clothi
ng to wear unless I’m at work, and even that’s stretching it.

  “What do you mean you don’t have anything to wear? You get dressed every day.”

  “I wear a uniform, Joey. Yoga pants are stretchy and work shirts can be sized up. Nothing else fits except these sweatpants that I stole from your drawer.” My eyes stay glued to the television. Not because I’m watching, but because I don’t want to see the look in his eyes. I’m not sure if it’ll hold pity, judgement, or confusion, but I don’t want to take the chance.

  “Huh.” He moves my leg back and forth as he inspects the material. “I knew they looked familiar, but they look so much better on you I didn’t recognize them.”

  I furrow my brow at him and shake my head. I don’t think I’ll ever understand how Joey’s mind works.

  “Change of plans,” he continues, “let’s go on a shopping date.”

  “What?” I push away from him and sit up. If he’s determined to go out, I might as well make sure it’s somewhere good and he’s officially captured my attention. “What do you mean a shopping date?”

  “Let’s go to that maternity store in the mall I’ve always avoided walking past.”

  “Avoided…? Wait. You avoided it because you didn’t want to get someone pregnant by proxy, didn’t you?” I deadpan.

  “Listen, science changes regularly, and someday, they could say it’s possible. You never know until it happens, and I didn’t want to get stuck having a baby with a random stranger.”

  I nod slowly. “Makes sense. Don’t walk by the maternity store but have sex with a stripper. Solid plan.” I give him a hearty and sarcastic thumbs-up. “Worked great.”

  “Listen, I was in my early twenties when I was a bit hyper-focused on my bachelor life, okay? Early thirties Joey is older and wiser and, well, already knocked up a stranger. Turns out it’s not so bad.” I can’t help but smile at his ridiculousness. He has this way of always easing my anxiety just by being himself.

  He nudges me and smiles. “So? What do you say? Wanna go on a really strange date with me?”

  How can I say no to that?

  “Ohmigod that feels so good. Right there,” I groan, throwing my head back against the headrest.

  “Careful,” Joey chides. “You’re going to give me a complex.”

  I giggle and turn to look at him, flipping through a health magazine as the nail technician shaves a boatload of calluses off the bottom of his heel. It looks like painstaking work and not something I would ever want to do.

  Then again, I got to fish a turd out of a public pool the other day, so I have no room to judge.

  “Don’t worry, babe. Your foot rubs are still the best.” My technician looks up and I shake my head and mouth yours are better. Her eyes crinkle behind her mask, and I know she finds the whole situation amusing. But how could she not? A very pregnant woman and her super-hot bodybuilder boyfriend getting matching pedicures? You don’t see that every day.

  Also, I’m not sure if he’s technically my boyfriend, but I’m making a conscious effort to not miss out on all the enjoyment of this evening by focusing on things like the word “boyfriend” and where this relationship may or may not be going.

  This date is unlike any other I’ve been on. All my past dates started with me getting dressed up and sexy before going to the standard dinner at a fancy restaurant, maybe dancing or drinks afterward. But tonight, I left the house in the stolen sweatpants, followed by Joey spending over an hour with me at the maternity store. I tried on item after item, looking for anything that would make me feel less fat and dumpy, him finding some reason to compliment every single thing I modeled for him. Then when I found some things that will work for the next few weeks, he didn’t even blink while handing his credit card over to the cashier. Just dropped the cash and smiled when he saw the pleased look on my face as I caught a glimpse of myself in one of the full-length mirrors.

  I may have fallen in love with him at that moment. I definitely fell in love with this dress.

  It’s a strapless number covered in red flowers inside black and white designs. The silky material feels soft against my skin and its formfitting but not clingy down to my knees, so while it shows off my bump, I feel pretty. Sexy even. I, for sure, feel more like myself wearing it and that provided more relief than I was expecting.

  Joey drops his magazine on his lap and looks over at me. “You’ve never called me babe before.”

  I shrug coyly. “Maybe I just saw a side to you tonight that makes you deserve it.”

  Not that he doesn’t always show me he’s all in. But I was starting to wonder if that meant all in for the baby, but “we’ll see” for everything else. Everything else being me. But tonight, he’s made me a priority, not just the baby. It’s like he figured out I was losing myself and he knew exactly how to help me find her again.

  “You mean I wasn’t doing enough before?”

  My eyes tip up in a half roll. “You did. You do. This just tipped you over the line to deserving of a nickname.”

  “Does that mean you’re enjoying your date?”

  I sigh in contentment because I haven’t felt this peaceful, possibly ever. “It’s been perfect.”

  “Good.” He reaches over and grabs my hand, entwining our fingers. “Do you want to get something to eat when we’re done here?”

  He rubs his thumb over my hand, making goose pimples dot my arms. If he sees them, he doesn’t say anything.

  “Can we get takeout instead and go home? I have to work in the morning, and I’ll never make it if I don’t get to bed on time.”

  “Oh really.” He waggles his eyebrows up and down which makes me roll my eyes all the way this time. My thoughts went there too, but I’ll never give him the pleasure of admitting it. Instead, I try half-heartedly to push him away, but he grabs my hand tighter and laughs. “I’m just kidding. We’ll stop by the Thai place you love after we’re done here.”

  “Sounds like a good plan.” Unfortunately, that plan means the world’s best foot rub comes to an end. It sucks, but it’s actually the worst part of the night so far. Everything else has been perfection.

  In what feels like record time, we’ve left the mall, climbed into Joey’s truck that he almost never uses because public transportation is way more effective, and I’ve got my favorite dinner sitting on my lap, the smell making my salivary glands work overtime.

  Pulling into our parking spot, the one that is rarely vacant, Joey gets out and rounds the car, opening my door like a true gentleman.

  When he takes the food off my lap and grabs my hand to help me out, a shiver runs down my spine. How is it that these small things—opening doors for me, holding my hand, knowing my favorite foods—all make me want to jump his bones right here on the front steps? I’ve never been the kind of woman who gushes when a man shows her some attention. Hell, I’m usually the one who demands to be treated like a queen or I won’t show you the time of day. It’s a little disconcerting. I don’t like not knowing if these feelings are because my hormones are jacked or if I’m becoming emotionally mature, which sounds insane in and of itself.

  But I push that out of my mind. There’s no reason to ruin what has been the most enjoyable night I’ve had in a long time, because who doesn’t love shopping?

  “You gonna be able to make it up the stairs in those shoes?” Joey glances down to my new strappy wedges that are way more comfortable than most of the sneakers I own.

  I blow out a resigned breath as I look up at how many fucking stairs we have to climb. “I can do it. It’s just going to take me some time. You go ahead.”

  He does. Taking two steps at a time, he races up to the apartment leaving me behind.

  “Well, that was rude,” I mutter to myself as I grab the railing and drag myself up the first rung. “You didn’t have to show off all your agility and shit. And you better not eat all the drunken noodles.”

  At least he’s out of eyesight, so he can’t see how winded I get. Or so I think for about five secon
ds before he comes racing back down the stairs again.

  “Are you purposely trying to make me feel like a loser that can’t make it home without huffing and puffing?” Seriously. I’ve barely made it five paces and he’s already back down again.

  “No. I was putting the food down quick, so I could come back and do this.”

  He leans over and picks me up in his arms, making me squeal.

  “Put me down!” I demand as I wrap my arms around his neck and hold on tight. “You’re going to drop me!”

  “Does no one pay attention to what I train for every day? Don’t answer that,” he adds quickly. “All of you are going to be surprised when the videos of me winning hit the gym website.”

  I can’t help the giggle that bursts out of me, although I’m not positive it’s because he’s funny. It may just be a default reaction to my fear of being dropped.

  “Yeah, laugh it up. But you weigh almost nothing compared to the sandbags I’ve been lugging around.”

  “Comparing your pregnant baby mama to sandbags? Such a charmer,” I joke, feeling a little more comfortable when I realize he’s right. I’ve seen the equipment he uses. Hell, I sanitize most of it. And they do weigh more than me. Even with my thirty-five-pound weight gain.

  Joey stiffens, and not from muscle use. I’m pretty sure I just said something wrong, I’m just not sure what.

  We reach the apartment in a fraction of the time it would have taken me just to get up the first flight, which I’m grateful for. I’m hungry, and yet I’m a little rattled by Joey’s sudden silence. It feels like I need to address that before we start eating, which admittedly is a bit weird for me. This emotional maturity and putting someone else’s needs first is really starting to get annoying.

  As soon as my feet touch the ground, I turn around and meet Joey’s eyes with mine. “What’s wrong? What did I say?”

  He scratches his chin and tightens the man bun on his head before answering me. “I don’t want to call you my baby mama anymore.”