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The Virgin Cowboy Billionaire’s Secret Baby(66)

By:Lauren Gallagher


“Really?”

“Really.” He ran his thumb along the side of her hand. “You’re probably the first sane thing to come into my life in a long time.”

He thought she’d make a snarky comment about how little she qualified as “sane”, but she didn’t speak. She didn’t loosen her grip on his hand either. He wished he could see her—that wasn’t happening tonight, though. Beneath the cool cloth, the Christmas lights still flickered.

But even more than he wanted this damned migraine to go away, he wished he could see her face and know what she was thinking right then.

He swallowed. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

Matt swept his tongue across his dry lips. “If you and Jon hadn’t split up, and you weren’t pregnant, do you—”

“Would I have gotten back in contact?”

He nodded gingerly.

“I don’t know. I hope so.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’d thought about it a lot. And I tried to pick up the phone so many times, but couldn’t make myself do it.” She paused. “I looked you up on Facebook a few times, but…”

“I did too.”

She tensed beside him. “You did?”

“Yeah. I wanted to make sure…” That you were still alive. That the cancer hadn’t come back. “I guess I was trying to work up the courage to friend you, but couldn’t do it.”

“Yeah. Same here,” she said, barely whispering, and probably not just for the benefit of his migraine. “I know it doesn’t make much difference now, but a day didn’t go by that I didn’t think about you.”

He slipped his fingers between hers. “Me too. I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”





Chapter Eighteen


So much for the morning sickness getting better.

While Matt was hopefully still asleep in her bed, Dara clung to the toilet and puked again. She cringed at the thought of him hearing her getting sick. Which was stupid. It wasn’t like he’d never heard her throw up before. He’d witnessed the worst parts of chemo, and if it ever put him off, he’d never let it show.

But they hadn’t been sleeping together back then. She didn’t imagine seeing or hearing her retch was much of a turn-on.

Eventually, her stomach let up. She spat a couple of times and then sat back against the cool wall and closed her eyes. The nausea hadn’t completely passed yet, but sometimes sitting still and taking some slow, deep breaths could settle her stomach enough.

God, this sucked. Between the morning sickness and whatever hell her labor turned out to be, she’d have no shortage of leverage to use against the kid.

“Mom is mean? Oh, sweetheart. Just clean your room. Don’t you realize how many mornings you made me spend hugging a toilet because of—”

“Okay, okay. Fine.”

She laughed at her own ridiculous thought. This poor kid had no idea what he was in for.

Her stomach was as settled as it was going to be, so she flushed the toilet and rinsed out her mouth. When she came out of the bathroom, Matt was sitting up in bed, rubbing his temples.

He lifted his head, squinting as if the light were way too bright. He was pale, which made the stubble on his jaw stand out even more. “You okay?”

“I’m good,” she croaked. “You look like shit.”

He rubbed his eyes again and muttered, “So do you.”

“Yay. Twinsies.”

He laughed halfheartedly. “We’d probably fit right in at IHOP or something.”

Dara gagged and clapped a hand over her mouth.

Matt winced. “Damn. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Just…” She waved her hand. “Food. No. Not for a few hours.” She swallowed, and when she was sure her stomach was back where it belonged, she asked, “How’s your head?”

He groaned.

“That good, huh?”

“Eh, it’s getting better.” He rubbed his temples again. “It’s mostly that shitty queasy hangover feeling. I’ll take it over the real thing, but it still sucks.”

“Wow. We are a good pair today.”

“Great.” He carefully swung his legs over the edge of the bed, but he didn’t stand. Holding the mattress, he closed his eyes and took some slow breaths. “Ugh.”

“Can you make it downstairs?”

He opened one eye. “Is there coffee downstairs?”

“There will be in a minute because I need some. Stat.”

“I thought you said no food.”

“Coffee isn’t food. Coffee is oxygen. Black, delicious, liquid oxygen in a cup.”

“But it’s—”