Ripped - Cassia Leo Page 0,27

breath of sweet Carolina air.”

“Thanks, Dad. I’ll see you when I get back.”

I end the call and sit up. It’s amazing how I once thought my refusal to work for my father would be the end of our relationship. In a way, I think not working for him strengthened our bond. We understand each other better now. We’re both providers for our families and we’re both passionate about what we do. That wasn’t the case when I worked for Parker Construction.

But if I retire, my only choice will be to teach surfing, like Yuri, or start a company that sells some type of surf product. Or go back to work for my dad.

Fuck that. My mom is right. I can’t give up on something I’ve worked toward my entire life. But I can’t tell Lindsay until after Pipeline in December. If she doesn’t take it well and, God forbid, she kicks me out of the house, that would ruin my mental focus. It’s selfish, I know, but I have to keep my eye on the prize until the end of Pipeline. After that, I’ll come clean to Lindsay. I’ll tell her I’m not retiring.

Nine

The first thought that crosses my mind as I open my eyes is that I’m fucked. I slept through the alarm! I leap out of bed, feeling slightly disoriented as I stand near the bedroom window, realizing it’s pitch black in here. I sigh as I realize I didn’t sleep through the alarm. I just woke up in the middle of the night. But why was I so sure it was time to wake up?

The moment I turn around to get back in bed, I get the answer to this question.

“You came home early?”

“I bullied my way onto a red-eye flight. I couldn’t sleep in that damn hotel room without you.”

I don’t know if it’s the pregnancy hormones or the two-week absence, but I’m suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. The tears begin to fall the moment I climb onto the bed next to him.

“I’m so happy you’re back,” I whisper, my voice choked by the tears.

He opens his arms, welcoming me into his nook. “I hate leaving you,” he says, kissing my forehead as his hand lands on my belly. “Especially like this… Wow. You weren’t kidding when you said you gained six pounds in two weeks.”

“Is that an insult? ’Cause I’ve been getting enough of those lately from Kaia. She accused me of having too many hormones yesterday.”

He chuckles at this. “You should have responded by asking her if she knows how to make a hormone.”

“Very funny, but she’d probably know the answer to that joke.” I slide my hand under his T-shirt, smiling when I feel his skin prickle as I skim my fingertips over his abs. “Both Kaia and Mila said the F-word yesterday. They’re getting really testy with me lately. I don’t think I’m handling it well.”

“You never give yourself enough credit. You’re a good mother.” He grabs my chin roughly and tilts my face up. “You’re the best mother. And that’s no bullshit.”

I know it’s not anywhere in the realm of possibility for me to be the best mother, so I decide to change the subject. “Surfline magazine sent you an email saying they tried to catch you after the event, but you disappeared pretty quickly. They want to do an interview before Pipeline and a follow-up interview afterward. I think they want you to win.”

“They’re interviewing the top five seeds,” he replies. “It has nothing to do with who they’re backing.”

I shake my head at his modesty. “Adam, why don’t you want to believe they’re supporting you? How are you supposed to win when you’re out there if you think you’re not better than those other guys? ’Cause you are. You’re the best. And that’s no bullshit.”

He laughs as he squeezes my shoulder and plants another kiss on my forehead. “I love the fuck out of you. You know that?”

I shrug, though my stomach flutters as if it’s the first, and not the billionth, time he’s said those words. “I may have a tiny bit of a suspicion that you kinda like me.”

He slides his arm out from under my neck and lays his hand on my cheek. “Well¸ this is how much I love you. I want you to go back to sleep. I’m gonna take a shower and get the girls up. I’ll take Kaia to school today so you can rest.”

“Have you even slept?”

He smooths the pad of his

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