I stared at her. This woman was so damn beautiful. She wasn’t even doing much. She was dressed simply in a pair of leggings and a shirt, and she had me wanting to step forward and wrap her in my arms.

“I had to make sure you and Baby Phileigh ate,” I replied, motioning to the breakfast on the table.

“Thank you, Kellon. That was so sweet, but I gotta get going. My client has been waiting for thirty minutes now.”

“Sit.” It was an order, but it was gentle. I wanted her to know I wasn’t about to argue with her ass. “You need to eat.”

Phileigh hesitated, looking into my eyes to see how serious I was before plopping her ass down on the stool. I placed a plate in front of her. “Google said eggs and toast wouldn’t make you nauseous.”

“I hope not.” She stared at the plate, picking up her fork. “It smells good.”

She dug in. I stared at her intently, waiting to see if she was going to gag. After the first bite went down smoothly, I smiled.

“Shout out Google.” I clapped, causing her to laugh. “Now I don’t have to start this friendship being a bad friend who let you and the baby go hungry.”

She shot me a playful glare as she munched on her toast. “You could never be a bad friend—you’re too thoughtful.”

“I try,” I replied with a wink, watching her devour the meal.

“With the morning sickness, I haven’t eaten in days. Thank you for cooking and making me slow down.”

“No problem. You and the baby’s health is my top priority.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah.”

“At least we’re on somebody’s priority list,” she stated.

“This may be a little nosy, but it doesn’t seem like your pregnancy is public knowledge. I got the vibe that your parents don’t know about the baby.”

“They don’t. I haven’t told them yet.”

“Why not?”

“My relationship with my parents is weird. My mom is too judgmental, and my dad is too nonchalant.” She shrugged.

“I get it. When you think you gonna tell them? I can be there if you want.”

“Absolutely not. This is not your responsibility.” She waved her hand in the air. “I’ll probably tell them when I get out of the miscarriage zone. So, in a few more weeks.”

I leaned in, propping my elbows up on the counter. “Listen, they’re your family. If anyone should be there for you right now, it’s them. You never know. They may be excited to be grandparents.”

“I know, I know.” She sighed. “Is it lame to be a twenty-eight-year-old woman scared to tell your parents you’re pregnant?”

“Scared is alright... Hell, you’re talking to someone whose mother goes everywhere he goes.”