Emerson didn't talk about it any further; instead, he hugs me. His head hung above my own, and he kissed it gently.
"You're squishing my bump," I muffled into his chest.
He grins, "You didn't mind it when I-"
I slap him on the arm, "Emerson!"
"That's the same thing you said last night before I put you to sleep." I don't know how he does it. How he always manages to cheer me up.
I kiss his cheek.
"What's that for?" he asked.
"What?" I smile, "I can't kiss my own husband?"
Emerson hummed lowly, "You can do whatever you want to your husband."
"Whatever I want?"
He nods, "Whatever you want."
I ran my hands down his stomach towards his waist, "Do you know what I really want, right now?"
Emerson leans lower until his lips reach my ear. His hot breath scattered across my lobe and his hands lightly rubbed against my belly. "A foot rub?"
I moan loudly, "Yes!"
He knows me so well.
"What are you two doing?" We turn our heads to see Nina and Amanda.
"Having s*x?" I responded.
"Oh yeah, you two look like you're getting it on with all the feet talking," Amanda said.
I shrug, "To each their own." Emerson and I went towards the living room where everyone else was hanging out. When I passed Nina, I frowned.
"I wish you were pregnant. We could play bump war," I said.
She gave me a playful glare, "Me too."
"Don't ever do the bump war again," Amanda said. "I'm not in the mood to spend any day at the hospital because my sisters acted stupid."
I laughed alongside Nina until I saw Emerson's face. Amanda isn't the only one that's not fond of our bumps war. "Okay. Okay. No bump war," I said.
Emerson releases a deep breath.
"Finally," Tyler said. "Always on time, aren't you, little sis?"
I grabbed a pillow and threw it at his face. "That sarcasm will never be appreciated."
Tyler leaps upward, "Now, let's get out of here before my eardrums erupt."
He's talking about the screaming children in the backyard, other living room, kitchen, etc. All the guys gathered together to decide where they want to go tonight.
"I'm going to go to the restroom real quick," I told Emerson.
"Are you okay going alone?"
I nod, "I'll survive the ten steps." I made my way towards the guest restroom only to find it occupied.
With a low grunt, I held my hand behind my back and made my way upstairs. Once I reached the top, I lifted a fist to knock on the bathroom door. "I'm pregnant, and I need-"
The door burst open.
Blue eyes.
I smile, "Hey, Jackson."
"Piper."
"I didn't know you were in town?" I went towards him for a hug. He returned the affection. "Is Abby here too?"
He shook his head, "Abby is aboard."
"Oh? Again?" Abigail is Jackson's younger sister.
"Yeah. She wanted to go to France. You know, she's at that age where all she wants to do is hang out with her friends."
I exhale, "Jackson. I told you this before."
He places two hands in the air, "Yes. Yes. Stop spoiling her. Discipline."
I gave him a tight smile, "I can tell you're taking my words into consideration."
Then it started, the mindless chattering between old friends.
"How was Disneyland?" he asked.
I rolled my eyes dramatically, "Never go to Disneyland while you're pregnant because one, they will not let you go on the fun rides. And two, your feet will hurt like hell."
Jackson laughs, "Noted. I will never go to Disneyland while I'm pregnant."
Sometimes, it still feels weird laughing with Jackson. Particularly with our history.
"Y-You look great," Jackson said.
I used to be in love with the man in front of me.
I laugh, "Oh, cut the bullshit." I slap his arm, "We both know I look horrible. I mean, look at me, Jackson!" I emphasized my large stomach. "I look like a damn alien."
He shrugs, "You still look beautiful to me."
And there was a time when the same man got down on a single knee for me.
My eyes flicker away from his, and I clear my throat. "I need to use the restroom, so do you mind?" I tilt my head to the side.
"Oh, right." Jackson moved over for me to enter the restroom.
Once inside, I exhale lightly before I turn towards the toilet. The mission towards the toilet was a hard one, mainly with the mirror. When I looked at it, I noticed how red my face had become.
And only over a few words too.
I shook off the feelings and did what I came to do. After I washed my hands, I made my way out of the restroom.
He was still there.
I smile, "Left something in there?" I turn back towards the bathroom.
"No." He scratches his neck, "I thought you might need some help going downstairs."
He wasn't wrong. I do have a hard time going downstairs. It isn't easy to go down when you can't see anything. And with a single miss, my ass will end up in the hospital.
When Jackson held out his hand for support, I could only stare at it.
I should call for Emerson.
But, then again, Jackson is only supporting me downstairs to ensure I don't fall.
Calling for my husband over something like this seems unnecessary.
Steadily, I took his palm.
It's hot.
And one by one, Jackson supported me downstairs with one hand holding mine and the other supporting my back. He was cautious about pacing his steps with mine to ensure there wasn't any mishap.
Then, it reappeared.
The heartbeats.
I don't want it.
It shouldn't be there.
When my feet stumbled, my hand tightened around him. His hands gripped my body and brought me towards him. "Are you okay?"
I can smell it.
That scent.
It's the cologne I gave him.
"Honey?"
Emerson.
He walked up the stairs, "Is everything okay?"
I reached for Emerson.
Steadily, Jackson removes his arms, and I fall into Emerson's embracement.
I smile, "Everything is okay."
"I told you to call me whenever you're walking up and down the stairs."
"Emmy. I'm fine. Jackson helped me."
Emerson looked up and smiled, "Thanks, Jack."
Jackson returned it, "Not a problem."
"Come on." One step after another, Emerson supported me down the rest of the stairs until I reached the bottom. Even without looking, I could still feel it; those wandering gazes.
Once we reached an empty room, Emerson held me from behind.
My arm bends back until it touches his bearded face, "You're asking me if everything is okay, but it feels like there's something wrong with you."
"I want to hold you," he mumbled into my shoulder. "Hold you until this jealousy disappears."
I turn around and cup his cheeks, "Emerson. You're my husband."
He pouts in my hands, "I know. But he's handsome."
"You're handsome."
"He's rich."
"We're a well-to-do middle-class family." I can't argue with that part. Jackson Martinez is one of the wealthiest men in the world.
He is a billionaire.
Yup.
I'm friends with a billionaire.
Thanks to my older sister, Nina, who's together with Matthew Greyson. Father to my three nephews and also a billionaire.
"He got a six-pack."
I laughed and held his tummy. "Well, teddy bear warm me all winter long."
"You don't regret it?"
I never kept it a secret from him.
I shouldn't have to.
The night I left New York with Emerson was the same night Jackson proposed to me.
I looked up to see his deep browns before my hand went across his cheek, "Not a second in my life had I ever regretted that day." I stepped closer to him and went on my toes, "I love you, Emerson, and I don't want you to think I have any regrets."
Emerson and I don't have secrets.
We would always talk through our insecurities.
Emerson held my hand and pressed our foreheads together.
I slap his shoulder, "I'm having your second child, you idiotic bum."
Emerson settled down on the guest bed and rested his head against my stomach. "He still likes you."