Skye hummed in agreement, mouth full.
I had no idea how Benji could feel that I was hungry, because I sure as hell couldn’t.But ifhecould feel it, could Skye and Serena too?
Serena’s mark connected the four of us like a circuit—and the idea that my needs might inconvenience them made my stomach twist even harder.
“We arenothaving a measuring contest,” Benji said tightly, forcing a smile Serena’s way. “It’s my job, as your beta, to care foryou, andouromegas. She’s hungry. That’s not up for debate.”
The emphasis onourwasn’t subtle.
“Muñequita, would you like something else?” he asked gently.
All eyes shifted to me. I didn’t like it.
My fork hovered uselessly over the grapes. My stomach had twisted harder under their attention.
I shook my head. This wasn’t like my usual not-wanting-to-eat, it felt like a food aversion. Nothing to worry about.
“She said she’s fine,” Vinny grunted.
Benji didn’t move. But his jaw clenched once, and I knew he didn’t believe me.
“Let me know if that changes,” he said finally.
Thank you,I signed quietly.
The rest of the meal passed without issue, and no one said a word when I gave my untouched pancake to Skye. He was in his third trimester, I think, he needed it more than I did.
After breakfast, Vinny and Serena left for a meeting about yesterday’s incident, and Skye went down for a nap. I stayed behind, thinking maybe I’d help Benji clean up.
It was a small thing. But it might prove I could be useful. Plus, this morning he’d said he needed help.
When I padded over to the sink, Benji didn’t look at me. He just slid a few plates into the water and stepped aside, leaving enough room for me to join.
I grabbed the sponge, turned on the faucet, and started scrubbing.
He dried each plate I handed him in silence. But I could feel the weight building, like thunder behind the clouds.
After the third plate, he sighed.
“You don’t need to do this,” he said.
I shrugged and kept scrubbing.
The dish towel twisted in his hands.
“You changed your dress,” he said next, glancing over at me.
My face heated.
I hadn’t wanted to change, but, thanks to Vinny, my first dress was wet.
I looked down at the blue gingham, suddenly self-conscious. Normally my dresses were flowy, soft, paired with a sweater. This one hugged more than it should. Vinny had picked it. I’d let him.
I flicked my fingers to ask if Benji liked it.
“The cherry dress is my favorite,” he said, lips twitching. “I like you in red. But, it’s nice to see the baby.”
He nodded toward my stomach, and I stood a little straighter, hand drifting to rest over the curve.