Chapter 100 I Miss You Very Much With Our Baby
Sloane's POV
With his praise, the last bit of hurt in my heart vanished into thin air, replaced by a sense of satisfaction from being understood and respected.
The room fell quiet again. I looked at this pitifully small break room and the cot that could barely fit one person, and asked a very practical question: "It's getting late. How are you going to sleep tonight?"
Hearing this, he raised an eyebrow, a hint of dangerous playfulness flashing in his deep eyes.
He leaned toward me, his tall frame completely enveloping me. He grabbed my chin and lowered his voice to ask back: "What, is Dr. Sloane trying to kick me out? Or... are you sick of me?"
His warm breath brushed against my face, carrying his unique fresh scent, making my heart skip a beat.
"That's not what I meant!" I quickly explained, my cheeks heating up uncontrollably. "There's only one bed here..."
Seeing me flustered like this, he finally couldn't help but laugh softly. That low, pleasant laugh made my chest tingle. He released my chin and instead affectionately pinched my cheek, his tone matter-of-fact: "You and me, we'll sleep together, of course."
With that, he walked straight to my small toiletry bag, took out my toothbrush and towel, then turned back and looked at me with a questioning gaze: "Do you mind if I use yours?"
My eyes widened in surprise.
You have to understand, this man had an almost obsessive need for cleanliness. All his personal items had to be custom-made and exclusively his own, never shared with anyone.
But now, he was asking to use my toiletries.
Seeing the calm inquiry and barely noticeable anticipation in his eyes, my heart softened, and I somehow nodded.
The calm and anticipation in his eyes were like a warm flame, burning away the last bit of distance and guard in my heart.
I looked at him, my heart softening, and somehow nodded.
He seemed not to have expected me to agree. He froze for a moment, then the corners of his lips curved into a very faint smile, and those deep eyes instantly rippled with gentle warmth.
His tall frame took up most of the narrow cot, and I was practically curled up entirely in his arms.
The bed frame made a strained creaking sound that seemed especially clear in the quiet night.
I buried my face in his solid chest, my nose filled with his fresh, pleasant scent mixed with the faint mint smell of the toothpaste I usually used, creating a strange yet comforting aroma.
"Jared," I said softly, nestled in his arms, listening to his steady, strong heartbeat. "With so much going on at the company, why did you suddenly come here?"
His arm around me tightened, pressing me deeper into his embrace. His chin rested on top of my head, gently rubbing against it.
After a long while, I heard his muffled voice from above, carrying a hint of barely detectable grievance: "I missed you."
Those simple words were like a warm current, instantly soothing all my anxiety and exhaustion.
The softest part of my heart was gently touched, and the hurt I'd felt from his earlier misunderstanding completely disappeared. I lifted my head. In the darkness, his features were clear and striking.
I reached out and hugged his strong waist back, pressing my cheek against his warm chest. My voice was soft but carried a dependence and sweetness I hadn't even noticed myself: "The baby and I missed you too."
His body holding me suddenly stiffened.
The next second, I heard a low, pleased laugh rumbling from his chest, the vibration making my eardrums tingle.
He released me, turned over to hover above me, carefully avoiding my belly. Those eyes, startlingly bright in the darkness, stared at me unblinkingly.
"Say that again," he commanded, his tone full of barely contained joy.
I laughed at his reaction but didn't repeat it. Instead, I took his hand and placed it on my lower abdomen.
He immediately understood. The smile in his eyes deepened, and he carefully bent down, gently pressing his ear against it, his posture as reverent as if listening to some divine oracle.
"I can't hear anything," he said, lifting his head with some disappointment.
"It's still so small, of course you can't hear anything yet." I laughed and pinched his ear.
But he didn't mind. He pressed his face back down and said seriously: "I'm building a relationship with our child in advance."
His childlike behavior made me want to laugh, yet my heart felt like it was filled with honey, sweet to the point of being cloying.
Outside the window was the oppressive silence of the disaster area, with occasional distant cries, but in this small space, I felt an unprecedented peace and completeness.
I nestled in his arms like this, sleeping dreamlessly through the night.
When I woke up the next day, dawn was just breaking.
The man beside me was already fully dressed, his crisp suit completely out of place in this simple room.
He stood by the bed, looking down as he focused on fastening his cufflinks. The morning light streaming through the window gap cast a soft golden glow around him.
I knew he had to leave.
A deep reluctance surged in my heart like a tide, drowning me.
He sensed my gaze. His hands paused on the cufflinks, and he turned around. Seeing my sleepy look, the corners of his lips unconsciously curved upward. He walked over, bent down, and planted a gentle kiss on my forehead, his voice low and husky: "You're awake? It's still early, sleep a bit more."
The warm touch made me instinctively nestle closer into his embrace. I reached out my arms, wrapped them around his lean waist, buried my face in his suit that carried the coolness of morning, and said in a muffled, coquettish voice: "I don't want you to go."
His body stiffened, then he let out a satisfied sigh. He wrapped his arms around me, blanket and all, rested his chin on top of my head, and his voice was full of indulgent helplessness: "Little thing, you know how to torture me."
I held him, greedily absorbing his reassuring scent.
Neither of us spoke, just quietly embracing each other, enjoying this brief moment of tenderness.
I don't know how long passed before a lowered voice came from outside the door: "Sir, the plane is about to take off."
It was his assistant.
Jared's arms around me tightened, as if he still didn't want to let go. But I knew I couldn't delay his business any longer.
I took the initiative to let go, withdrew from his embrace, straightened his slightly wrinkled collar, looked up at him with a smile: "Go on, I'll wait for you back home."
He looked at me deeply, his eyes churning with thick reluctance that couldn't be dissolved. Finally, he bent down, kissed me heavily on the lips, then reluctantly turned to leave.
I walked him to the door. As soon as I opened it, I saw Jessie holding two breakfasts, about to knock.
Seeing Jared behind me, her expression instantly changed from surprise to delight, then to a knowing, teasing smile. She waved at us enthusiastically, her voice clear and bright: "Good morning, Sloane and Jared!"