Chapter 147: Chapter 147 - Private Ocean

Adrielle Hale

The bed is empty when I wake up. The room is so silent, I can hear the waves coming from the window. Pedro isn't in bed with me. And I don't know when he got up, but the balcony is open and the cool morning breeze fills the room with a subtle force.

The silence doesn't change as I sit up in bed, searching for the man who should be in the room. But he's not. However, I know he hasn't left the house. His phone is on the table next to the bed. The screen lights up, and I can see the time: 8:39 a.m.

I throw back the blanket and slide across the bed, heading to the closet. I imagine Pedro might be there, but no one is there. Apparently, he hasn't touched his suits either. I can see his collection of well-tailored suits stored on hangers. The closet door is made of glass, giving me a full view of the neatly pressed, untouched clothes inside.

He's still home.

I walk to the bathroom to brush my teeth, do my business, and shower. The shower reminds me of yesterday, of my nervous reaction to seeing the blood test results. My heart starts pounding again, nervous about having to face this again. Maybe I should talk to someone about it. Maybe Sofia and Lyla can help me. I can't talk to my parents about this; their reactions would be like Pedro's, I imagine: they'd shout to everyone that they're expecting another grandchild.

The media is still after us, desperate for answers that Pedro said he won't give them. The only person we'd give an interview to would be Adrian, but he doesn't want to pressure us and said he can wait as long as necessary.

I grab the towel and wrap it around myself as soon as I turn off the shower. The shower door is fogged with steam from the hot water. In the closet, I search for appropriate clothes for the day. I'll have to go to the hospital in the morning. Partly to talk to Lyla, but I also have a meeting at ten.

I grab a pair of white lingerie to wear. Over that, I'll wear beige tailored pants with a black, skin-tight blouse with spaghetti straps. The blazer I'll wear is also black. I leave it on the bed before walking to the nightstand to get my phone. I text Lyla, which I imagine sounds desperate.

"We need to talk. Meet you at the hospital at 9:30."

I wait for her response, but she doesn't answer right away. I hear the doorknob turn. I imagine it's Pedro. The door sounds different from when our daughter enters the room. Abby is anxious, always opening the door with a bang.

"Look, this surprise breakfast thing was better in the old days. You slept longer, and I could wake you up in the best way possible." His voice sounds like someone frustrated at having their plans interrupted.

I give a small laugh. He really liked waking me up for breakfast. And I loved it because it always came laden with morning kisses. I feel a little guilty about interrupting plans that seemed perfect.

His blue eyes focus on mine, with a slight expression of frustration. His brow is furrowed, and his eyes are half-closed, staring at me. I can see that Pedro hasn't changed his clothes. He's wearing black shorts and a gray shirt. Even his hair is messy today, like someone who doesn't have many plans for the day.

"I'm awake, but you can give me morning kisses," I say, walking toward him with light steps. Pedro still has a frustrated expression, his lips pressed together in a pout. I hug his neck, pulling him closer. "You were the one who left me alone in bed first, so reward me with kisses."

His brow is furrowed, almost serious. His arms slide around my waist until they wrap around me, pressing me against his body. Pedro keeps his pair of beautiful blue eyes on mine.

Looking even closer, our daughter's eyes are like his: a private ocean, where each dive seems to steal my oxygen, but it's as if I'm no longer willing to resurface. I know all too well how I can get lost in this peaceful ocean within him, how I can drown and still feel alive. I like the idea of ​​having a private ocean. Two, actually. One more welcoming than the other, each day more intense and comfortable. It's as if I'm not fighting the tide, just letting it pull me deeper.

I'll be very happy if I have another private ocean. If our children resemble Pedro, at least in their personality, that will be more than enough. Abby inherited more traits from me than from him. Sheer stubbornness is clearly mine. If we move forward with this baby, I will love him as much as I love Abby.

Pedro's touch is gentle on my cheek, as soft and careful as a feather. His eyes are focused on mine as his face carefully approaches mine, so he can moisten his lips and kiss me. His kiss is sweet, his lips softer than the first time we kissed when he returned. My fingers tug at the hair on the back of his neck as I lean back into him. I know he yearns for more, just like me.

His tongue is eager, controlled, and gentle. Its encounter with mine is subtle, without the struggle for control. All I allow him to do is control our kiss. I'm in no rush, I'm not going anywhere now. Not right away.

"Where do you intend to go?" he asks, his mouth against mine. His lips pull away from mine only so he can trail kisses down my temple. "You smell very good. I'd say this is very dangerous. Your perfume is driving me crazy."

I smile a little, biting my bottom lip as his warm tongue touches my neck.

"I have a meeting at the hospital," I reply, my tone as hoarse and breathless as I thought it would sound. "Please, I can't miss another meeting because of you," I warn him, and Pedro knows exactly what I'm talking about.

I missed a meeting last week because of him. Because of his tempting kisses and naughty touches. We had to reschedule it for this week, and if I allow it again, this meeting won't happen a second time.

"I thought we'd stay home today…" He says, his tone so provocative it almost makes me consider the idea.

"If I stay here, it'll be another rescheduled meeting. I can't do this," I warn him, swallowing hard and pulling his hair a little harder. "Pedro, please…" I mumble.

I can hear his chuckle as he nibbles my skin. He lifts his kisses again until his nose touches mine with a gentle caress. His eyes are focused on me again.

"Let's go down to breakfast, then," he says, pulling his arms away from me.

There's a silent rebuke from my subconscious—it doesn't like the idea of ​​us drifting apart. I touch Pedro's chin before kissing him one last time so we can leave the room. My feet move to walk toward the door, but I can't do it; someone doesn't want me that far away. His hand grips mine with a light squeeze, pulling me toward him again.

"I have one condition, my love," Pedro says, his tone firm enough to make it sound like we're discussing business. I stop and watch him, locking eyes with his, and waiting for him to continue. A subtle smile appears on his face. "You almost ruined the romantic breakfast, so I guess you'll have to accompany me to dinner."

I arch an eyebrow and smirk.

"A dinner?" I ask quietly. "What kind of dinner?"

"A dinner we haven't had since we got back together. I think we deserve some alone time after everything we've been through. Just the two of us," he replies. His eyes are focused on mine, waiting for an answer. The blue is even more intense and brilliant. "Please don't refuse. I've already made our reservation." His tone is almost pleading, as if I'm truly willing to refuse a moment alone with the man I love.

"I would never refuse a moment alone with you, my love," I reply softly. "But have you told our daughter that you want a moment alone with her mother?"

"Yes," he replies, nodding. "And she agreed. She loves me, Adie. She'll agree with everything I say." Pedro says this with such conviction that it makes me unbelievable.

I know our daughter. And I know her father. I know Pedro must have promised her something. Even new fish for the huge aquarium we have dividing the living room and dining room.

I narrow my eyes, staring at him.

"You bought her something, didn't you?" I ask, my eyes intent on his.

Pedro smiles.

"This time, my love, I didn't buy her anything," he replies calmly. "But I let her open the pile of presents in the living room."

"There you go," I reply, snapping my fingers, as if I already have my answer.