A Bossy Roommate (Next Door to a Billionaire #2)

37. Eden

37

EDEN

SIX MONTHS LATER

O ur marriage takes place in the dreamy Chateau de Chantilly in France, about thirty miles north of Paris. It’s as if the sun has painted the dreamscape! We find ourselves at an ancient castle, surrounded by a meticulously cultivated French garden, and the air is thick with the sweet scent of roses and the tune of singing birds. We can practically hear “Here Comes the Bride” chirping in the air.

And there’s Auntie, right at the front, beaming with enough pride and joy to power the whole of France (and maybe even Belgium next door). Standing with her is Hattie, her confidante, making everybody laugh by quipping, “Well, let us hope these three terrors don’t get up to too much mischief while I’m gallivanting around France—they’re probably already hatching a plot to seize control of my apartment.”

“Oh Hattie,” Auntie says with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, “if your cats pull off a plot to seize your apartment, you’ll have to start charging them rent!”

Diane, my confidante, shares a knowing glance that suggests she remembers the day I had sprinted down the aisle, sans groom. We silently celebrate the fact that this time, my journey to the altar will be—fingers crossed—refreshingly uninterrupted.

And let’s not forget our entourage—Gretchen, Jaylin, Lexi, Bradley, and even Mr. Bernie—all dressed to the nines, showing support like there’s no tomorrow.

Just as I feel the warmth of Carter’s touch and the confident, loud growl of his voice rumbling, “ I do ,” I stir from my slumber, feeling a stir in my belly, my heart still intoxicated by my beautiful dream.

I waddle to the bathroom as fast as my legs can carry me.

Normally, Carter wakes me up when it’s time for work, however, this morning, our baby has decided moving around in my belly is an easier way to get me out of bed.

How could I have known that one decision would lead to me getting everything I’d ever wanted? I had come to New York City with no money in my bank account, a broken heart, and a car that was hanging on by a windshield wiper. Now, I have a dream apartment, a wonderful husband, and in five months, our baby girl will be in our arms.

I find Carter in the gym, running on the treadmill like he does every morning. Standing in the doorway, I can’t help but smile as I watch him run.

He has his earbuds in and is already on a call. “Does that clear up any confusion?” he’s asking. “Feel free to share the report with your partners. If they need more clarification, I’d be happy to set up a conference call and go over my thoughts. Thanks, Mr. Humphries.”

I’m not sure what the client said, however, judging by the pleased expression on Carter’s face, it was positive. He ends the call and hops off the treadmill. When he sees me standing there, he takes out his earbuds. “Hey, good morning, baby. How long have you been standing there?”

“Not long. Just admiring the view.”

Carter has been working from home ever since he’d turned down Legacy’s offer. Which means he’s somehow even more buff than when we’d met. Often, he’ll take breaks by doing some lifting or running, and the results are impossible to ignore.

“Can’t blame you,” he teases. He picks up his towel and wipes his face as he draws closer. When he tries to give me a kiss, I wiggle away. “Carter! Ew, no, you’re all sweaty!”

“Hey. Get back here. You don’t want to give me a little hug?”

He starts to chase me through the apartment with open arms, trying and eventually pulling me into a hug. “ Carter, nooooo! ” I tease, laughing. “Now you got your sweat all over me.”

“Well, I always wanted a workout buddy.”

“You did not!”

“Too bad. Guess you’re officially my ‘sweatmate’ now.” Carter kisses my neck. “Shower with me?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

He leads me down the hall, his hand tightly clutching mine. It’s still unbelievable how everything has changed, not just in my life but between Carter and me. When we had first got together, he’d barely had time for anything but work. He’d been settled into this neat routine he had carved for himself and was too stubborn to let anyone interrupt it. Now, it’s the opposite. Now, he’s the one starting over, the one branching out, taking risks to prove himself.

It’s enough to make me chuckle to myself.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, pausing in the bedroom to step out of his sneakers.

“I’m just remembering what it was like when I first came to New York, how I didn’t know a soul and was trying to make my own way. And now, here we are?—”

“Dum. Dum. Dum. The tables have turned,” Carter says. “I hadn’t thought of it that way, but you’re right. It is crazy. And, in a few more months, we’ll both be starting something new.”

He reaches down to lay his hands on my round belly. The baby moves excitedly. She always does as soon as he touches my stomach, like she knows her dad is close. I smile and lay my hands over his.

“I know. I still can’t believe it,” I confess.

Carter draws me close, reaching out to lay his hand on my cheek. “Well, believe it, Mrs. Bancroft. Every single day I’m like, ‘Whoa, I’m on this insane rollercoaster with this wild and drop-dead gorgeous chick.’”

“Looks like you’ve got front-row seats to the adventure of a lifetime!” I lean in to kiss him. When we draw back, I give him a smoldering look. “Now, how about that shower?”

We strip down and slip into the large shower together. A few verses into my rendition of the small-town girl’s tale in “Don’t Stop Believin’” by Journey, Carter starts humming along with me (his adorable off-key version), before he pulls me close. Sporting the cutest smirk, he kisses me under the spray of the hot water and runs his hands down my hips, which Carter is always excited about. The moment I felt even slightly self-conscious about my changing body, he was right there to smooth away all my fears.

Along with physical changes, the emotional ones are a damn rollercoaster. One afternoon I cried because our mail was late, and then laughed at how bewildered Carter was, only to cry again that I was making him confused with my craziness. Another time, me and the girls went out to our usual lunch place, and I had the sudden craving for something sweet and started crying because they were out of those amazing NYC cronuts. As if it wasn’t simple enough to waddle those five extra minutes to the next bakery (Gretchen still won’t let me live that one down, though she did make the heroic trek for me, bless her heart). And no, I never spilled the beans that I had my suspicions about her being in cahoots with Huxley. I’ve got to keep a tiny shred of pride intact, after all.

Speaking of work: I love having Carter work from home and me assisting him. No more late nights or coming and going at separate times. He’s already transformed the guest suite into a nursery, which was a project he was adamant about undertaking on his own.

I’ve never really had an eye for that sort of thing, and he was so excited about it that I let him handle the arrangements. He’d picked everything, from the colors of the walls and carpet to what furniture and decorations to use. Ever the pro, he had gone through tons of samples and mockups before deciding. He kept saying he wanted it to be right for his little girl, and it made my heart explode.

Before heading out, I go to the guest suite and stand in the doorway. No matter how different it looks now, I can still see myself there, sitting on that bed, worried and nervous about sharing a space with my jerky boss. I’d had no idea what was in store for me, what amazing changes awaited.

It all seems like centuries ago.