Ethan was pacing the floor when I walked back into the examination room. His hands were in his pockets, and he appeared to be deep in thought. I cleared my throat, and his eyes locked with mine.
“You’re mine,” he growled. “Baby or no baby, it doesn’t matter to me.”
“Of course I’m yours,” I soothed. “I’ve admitted it about a million times already.”
“I didn’t like hearing the nurse call you Ms. Brooks.”
“It is my name,” I reminded him.
“But I don’t want it to be,” he rasped, pulling a navy blue jewelry box, embossed with the Harry Winston logo, out of his pocket. He flipped one side of the top open, quickly followed by the other, and I swore my heart stopped in my chest at the sight of the ring inside. The cushion-cut diamond in the center was flawless—and huge. At least five or six carats. It was framed by micropave diamonds and set on a micropave platinum band. The design was delicate, feminine… and perfect for me.
“Oh my goodness.”
“Marry me.” He lifted the ring out of the box and slid it on my finger.
“It fits,” I breathed out.
“Of course it does,” he rasped, his thumb sliding over the band circling my finger. “I had it made for you.”
“You did?” I cried, tearing my gaze away from my finger to look up at him once again.
“I wanted to wait. To propose to you the right way, making it special. But as usual, you’re impossible to resist.”
“I’m glad.” I rose up on my tiptoes to give him a kiss. “Because if the doctor walks through that door and tells me I’m pregnant, I would have wondered if that’s why you proposed to me.”
“It looks like I have perfect timing,” a feminine voice full of laughter interrupted. We both turned to find a woman standing at the door, dressed in a white lab coat with Dr. Reynolds stitched above the upper left pocket. “Congratulations on your engagement. And your pregnancy.”
I barely registered anything else she told me during the appointment. I wasn’t too concerned, though, because Ethan took notes. He also asked questions, really embarrassing ones about our sex life too. When we made it to his house a couple of hours later, after stopping to pick up more pregnancy books on the way, I was exhausted. I hardly noticed the grandeur of his home, heading straight back to the master bedroom for a nap.
My head was still fuzzy a couple hours later when I woke up. After going to the bathroom and washing my face, I tossed on my robe and went in search of Ethan. The house was huge, and I poked my head into no less than ten rooms by the time I made my way into the living room.
“This isn’t a house, it’s a freaking mansion,” I mumbled to myself, just as the doorbell rang.
In hindsight, I only had my tiredness to blame for what I did next. Wandering towards the foyer, I pulled open the door without looking through the peephole to see who it was.
“Lilah?”
“Uh, hi, Dad,” I replied lamely.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, his eyes dropping to my short, pink robe. They snagged on my left hand, and the ring I wore there, before moving back up to my face and taking in my sleepy eyes and mussed hair. His face heated, and his eyes narrowed in anger.
“Fuck,” Ethan groaned from behind me, right before his hand slid to my lower back and I felt the heat of his body against mine.
“Ethan,” my father growled. “What the fuck is my little girl doing here and dressed like that?” He was shouting by the time he finished.
“I can explain. And I will. But first,”—he tugged me further inside the house, glaring at my bare legs—“Lilah is going to promise me she will never, ever answer the door dressed like this again.”
Awesome, both of the most important men in my life were pissed.
Chapter 11
Ethan
You would think my heart would have frozen at the sight of my best friend seeing his daughter at my house in nothing but a tiny robe. But, no. My heart stopped at the fact that my woman was standing in front of another person in a tiny, fucking pink robe!
I turned her around and urged her back towards our bedroom. “Go change, baby girl. I need to talk to your dad.” I deliberately ignored Samuel, who was sputtering on the front porch.
Lilah resisted the movement a little, looking at me over her shoulder with a stubborn glint in her eye. “But I—”
“Clothes first, Lilah,” I interrupted her argument, infusing my tone with steel. She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, but flipped her head around and marched away.
“Ethan!” Samuel roared as he barreled inside. I stepped out of the way before he crashed into me. There was murder in his eyes, and I could practically see the steam blowing from his ears.