“Did my dad give you a hard time?” “No, no. That was fine. Actually, he made his displeasure with my occupation clear and then we moved past that.” “Then,” she frowned at Tristan’s expression, “what’s wrong?” “Abby, I’d like it if you would come with me back to my house.” Her eyes widened in surprise. “Why?” “Because you’re seven months pregnant and just found out you have gestational diabetes. It would make me feel better to know that you’re being taken care of.” Abby blinked, but stayed silent. Tristan’s brows were furrowed, his concern clear in his eyes. Since the day they’d met, all he’d done was care for her, worry about her well-being. And really, being taken care of felt pretty damned good. He wanted to do this for her. God, she wanted to leap into his arms. “Abby?” “I’d love to.”
