Chapter 77 #77
Chapter 77
~Dwayne~
I sat in the chair facing the counter, coffee mug frozen halfway to my lips.
Shailyn was feeding him. Actually feeding him like he was some kind of prince who couldn't handle his own fork.
"Open up," she said, her voice soft and loving as she brought another piece of pancake to Dante's mouth.
Open your mouth," she repeated, fork loaded with pancake. "I'm feeding you."
"Baby, I can feed myself…" He said in a loving tone.
"I know you can. But I want to do this. Please?” She responded to him.
He ate it, his eyes never leaving her face. My grip tightened on the mug until I thought it might shatter.
"Come on, one more bite," Shailyn coaxed Dante. "You need energy for today."
"I'm eating, I promise."
"Not fast enough." She brought the fork to his lips again. "For me?"
Dante ate it, and the look on his face made me want to flip the entire counter over.
"You two are disgustingly domestic," I muttered before I could stop myself.
Shailyn glanced at me, a small smile on her lips. "Is someone jealous?"
"No," I lied.
"Liar," she teased. "Don't worry, if you had a wife, she'd probably do the same for you."
If I had a wife. The words hit harder than they should have.
I already had the woman I wanted. She was just married to the wrong brother.
"All done!" Shailyn announced, setting down the fork. "Feel better?"
"Much better," Dante said. "Thank you."
"Good. Now bath time."
"Bath time?" Dante raised an eyebrow.
"Yes. You've been up all night working. You need to relax." She pulled him toward the stairs. "Come on."
I watched them leave, my hands clenched into fists under the counter.
The moment they disappeared upstairs, I shoved my plate away, appetite completely gone.
"Fuck," I breathed, pressing my palms against my eyes.
This was torture. Pure, exquisite torture.
Watching her love him. Care for him. Touch him with such tenderness.
When it should have been me.
\---
Hours later, after forcing myself to work on the X-Intel project until my eyes burned, exhaustion finally won.
I collapsed onto my bed fully clothed, too tired to even shower.
Sleep came fast and heavy.
When I woke, the room was dark. I checked my phone. 11:47 PM.
"Great," I muttered, knowing sleep wouldn't come again easily now.
My stomach growled, reminding me I'd had not eaten after the pancake that Shailyn made.
The house was quiet as I made my way downstairs, assuming everyone would be asleep.
But light spilled from the kitchen doorway.
I pushed it open and stopped dead.
Shailyn stood at the counter, covered in flour. White powder dusted her hair, her cheeks, the tip of her nose. She was wearing an oversized sweater that hung off one shoulder and leggings that showed off her growing bump.
She looked adorable. Absolutely, impossibly adorable.
And I was instantly hard.
"Dwayne!" She looked up, startled. "I didn't think anyone was still awake."
"I could say the same," I replied, willing my body to calm down. "What are you making?"
"Strawberry cake," she said, gesturing to the mess around her. "The twins are demanding it apparently."
My heart stopped. "Strawberry cake?"
"Yeah, why?" She tilted her head, sending more flour cascading from her hair. "Do you not like it?"
"No, I..." I moved closer, unable to help myself. "It's my favorite."
Her eyes widened. "Really?"
"Really. How did you..."
"I didn't know," she said quickly. "I just... the craving hit and I had to make it. Like right now. At midnight."
"Pregnancy cravings are no joke," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Apparently not." She laughed, then reached up to brush flour from her face, only managing to spread it more. "I'm a mess."
"You're perfect," I said without thinking.
She froze, her hand still raised to her cheek. "What?"
"You're making a mess," I corrected quickly. "A perfect mess."
"Oh." Her hand dropped. "Yeah, I tend to do that when I bake."
I moved to stand beside her, looking at the batter she'd been mixing. "Need help?"
"Actually, yes. Can you pour this into the pans? My arms are tired."
"Of course."
I took the bowl from her, our fingers brushing. The contact sent electricity up my arm.
"So strawberry cake is your favorite?" she asked as I poured.
"Since I was a kid," I admitted. "I usually get it myself for my birthdays."
"Well," she said, brightening. "At least now you'll get to have some when it's done."
"I'd like that."
We worked in comfortable silence for a few minutes, her watching as I finished portioning the batter.
"There," I said, sliding the pans toward her. "Ready for the oven."
"Thank you." She bent to open the oven door, and I had to look away from how the movement made her sweater ride up.
"How long does it bake?" I asked.
"Thirty minutes. Then it needs to cool before I can frost it."
"You're making frosting too?"
"Of course. Can't have cake without frosting."
"You're going to be up all night."
She shrugged. "The twins want what they want."
"Or maybe you want it and you're blaming them."
She laughed. "Maybe. Don't tell anyone."
"Your secret's safe with me."
She set a timer on her phone, then leaned against the counter. "So what are you doing up?"
"Couldn't sleep. I worked too late, slept too early, now I'm wide awake."
"Story of my life lately," she said. "Pregnancy insomnia is real."
"Is Dante awake?"
Her expression shifted slightly. "No. He's completely out. I tried to wake him when I got up but he didn't even stir."
"He's always been a heavy sleeper."
"I've noticed." She picked at some flour on the counter. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Why do you and Dante hate each other so much?"
The question caught me off guard. "We don't hate each other."
"Dwayne, I've seen how you look at each other. How you talk to each other. There's real animosity there."
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "It's complicated."
"Everything with you two is complicated."
"We're competitive. Always have been."
"It's more than that though, isn't it?"
I looked at her, at those eyes that saw too much. "Yeah. It's more than that."
"Will you tell me?"
"Someday," I said. "But not tonight."
She nodded slowly. "Okay. Someday."
We stood there in silence, the only sound the hum of the oven.
"I should probably clean up this mess," Shailyn said, looking at the flour covering every surface.
"I'll help."
"You don't have to..."
"I want to."
We cleaned together, falling into an easy rhythm. She washed, I dried. She swept, I held the dustpan.
"This is nice," she said softly.
"What is?"
"This. Just... being. No pressure. No questions. Just making a cake at midnight."
"Yeah," I agreed, my chest tight. "It is nice."
The timer went off, making us both jump.
"Cake's done," she announced, moving to pull it from the oven.
The smell hit me immediately. Sweet and rich and exactly like I remembered.
"Oh my God, that smells amazing," I said.
"Right? I can't wait to taste it." She set the pans on cooling racks. "But that'll have to wait until tomorrow. I'm suddenly exhausted."
As if on cue, she yawned.
"Go to bed," I said. "I'll finish cleaning up."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive. You need rest."
"Thank you, Dwayne." She moved toward the door, then paused. "For everything. For helping. For talking. For just... being here."
"Anytime," I said, meaning it more than she knew.
She smiled, flour still dusting her hair, and left.
I stood alone in the kitchen, surrounded by the smell of strawberry cake, my heart in my throat.
\---
The next morning, I walked into the office at SentientIQ, coffee in hand, ready to tackle the meetings with the board members.
But when I opened the door, someone was sitting in my chair.
Their back was to me, but I recognized the posture immediately.
"What are you doing here?" I asked. "That's my seat."
The chair spun around slowly.
And he smiled at me from behind my desk.
“Dwanyyy.”
Ugh I didn't plan to start my day like this.