Kitchen Promises

By: Brooke Cumberland



Not wanting to have this talk before my morning coffee, I lied. “Yes, that’s exactly how they got in there. And then when they’re nice and ripe, they’ll come right out of mommy’s tummy.”

The smile on her face told me she was satisfied as she skipped out of the room and down the hall.

I was only four and a half months along, but I was huge already. I didn’t start to show this early with Stella, but carrying two, I knew this pregnancy would be completely different.

I had been super tired lately. I was hoping the second trimester energy boost would’ve taken effect already, but if anything, it had gotten worse. I couldn’t sleep at night without nightmares of Travis, I couldn’t get comfortable, and I couldn’t get the image of seeing Stanley with Denny out of my mind.

“Lay down, Mama,” Michael chimed in, waltzing into my room with a tray. “I made breakfast.” I watched as he placed the tray on the bed—set with eggs, toast, orange juice, and a banana.

I waddled from the closet back down to the bed. “This is so sweet, thank you.” I started crying uncontrollably out of nowhere.

“Baby girl?” Michael asked, raising his eyebrow.

“I’m sorry,” I cried out. “These damn pregnancy hormones make me cry over everything.”

“Over breakfast?” He chuckled, amused.

“No, you big jerk!” I laughed. “The gesture. The way you always take care of me. It’s just…so sweet.”

“I love you, baby girl. I’ll always take care of you.” He kissed me on the forehead and stroked my hair. “However, pregnant Molly is a bit dramatic,” he teased.

I sniffed and got myself together. “Thank you,” I said softly, taking the tray over my lap.

“You’re welcome. Now get some rest. I’ll take the kids to school.”

“You know, I can still do things!” I yelled out sarcastically.

“I know. Just not as fast as I can!” he yelled back with amusement. Damn, he was right. I had been off my game lately.

I didn’t have to work until the afternoon, so I enjoyed my breakfast in bed. I was trying to eat healthy, moderate meals, but it was as if my body was working overtime. Always wanting to sleep and eat. Didn’t really help that I worked on my feet and around food all day.

Drake walked in wrapped in only a towel. The toast I was bringing to my mouth suddenly dropped from my fingers as my eyes roamed over his perfectly toned body. My eyes followed down to his perfect V that went just below the towel.

“Breakfast in bed and a show? I’m one lucky gal,” I teased, leaning back against the headboard enjoying the view.

“Someone sounds like they are feeling better.” He smiled.

“Well, I for sure am now.”

“Really? Well, perhaps I should take advantage of that.” He grinned, slowly unwrapping the towel from around his waist. I smirked as I watched him tease me, putting on a show as he finally released the towel. I watched it fall to the ground. I let my eyes wander up and down his body—appreciating every single chiseled curve of muscle.

“It’s not nice to tease,” I reminded him. “You better put out or get out.”

“Oh, I love it when you talk dirty,” he quipped, laughing. “I can’t decide if I love or hate your pregnancy hormones.” He grinned. It was true—I had a love/hate relationship with them as well. On top of always wanting to sleep and eat, I also wanted sex—all the time. Not that Drake minded, but some days, I was all over the place. I felt like I had no control over them. They were beginning to drive me mad.

“Can you be a little late for work today?” I asked, placing the tray of food on the bedside table. I didn’t take my eyes off him as I watched him walk over to the bed. “I’d hate for you to get into trouble.” I grinned.

“I could probably weasel my way out of it with the boss.”

“You are the boss.”

“I know.” And with that, he made his way on top of me, brushing the covers off. “I think I can spare a few minutes…” He pressed his lips across my jaw, slowly moving to my neck. He bit it gently, making a moan escape my mouth at his touch and eagerness. “…for you.”

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