“Is this for your website?” Kade asks, incredulous. “Selling lemonade is for kids.”
“Are you going to help, or not?”
Kade sighs, standing. “Okay, fine.”
Felix smiles a little. Kade has always agreed to his ideas, even if they were insane: painting gigantic swirls on Kade’s bedroom wall, building a three-story tree house in his backyard, cooking the grandest dinner for Kade’s parents. They’d had fun, in the end—even Kade can’t deny that. So Felix slides his chair back, thinking about the materials they’ll need.
“No.” Kade sets a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back into the cushioned seat. “You just puked. At least eat something first.”
Why do you care so much? Felix covers his hot cheeks with his hands, watching from the corner of his eye as Kade opens the cupboards.
“You have enough sugar for three cups of lemonade,” Kade says. “No lemons. And no plastic cups.”
Felix breathes out, telling his heart to stop beating so fast. It’s not as though Kade will visit him again. “I guess we’ll need to buy them.”
“It’s almost 11 AM,” Kade says, glancing at the wall clock. “Think anyone’s gonna want lemonade?”
“If we get back before noon, yes.”
“Do you even have any signboards for a stand?” Kade shuts the cupboards, looking over at Felix’s plate. “You haven’t been eating.” He grabs the pan from the stove, shoving an egg and a slice of bacon down in front of him. “Eat.”
“Yes, sir,” Felix says, grinning. The roiling in his stomach has mostly faded by now, and it’s nice, Kade serving him breakfast.
Kade rolls his eyes. While Felix stuffs the food into his mouth, Kade pulls his phone out, tapping on the screen while he checks the cupboards. Felix realizes he’s making a list, and he wants to hug this man, suddenly. Wants to share an entire life with him.
He looks down at his abdomen and bites his lip.
Five minutes later, Kade settles back down in his chair, placing his phone between them. “I’ve added up the stuff we need for a stand,” he says. “We’ll make a batch first, and if there’s not enough, we’ll make more.”
“Sounds good.” Felix scans the list: 10 lemons, 1 lb sugar, 40 cups, 40 straws, 4 signboards.
“You coming with me to the store?” Kade stops next to him, his heat radiating through the air between them.
Felix nods, scooping the last of the egg into his mouth. He isn’t nauseous anymore. Maybe the morning sickness won’t be so bad if he learns to anticipate it. “Are we taking the bike?”
“Walk if you want. I’m taking the bike,” Kade says. Felix elbows him. “Hey, you asked.”
Felix grins. He suppresses the urge to hug Kade, following him out of the house. In the driveway, Kade hands over the spare helmet. Felix pulls it on. This is starting to feel familiar again—buckling his helmet alongside his alpha, swinging his leg over the seat behind him.
When Kade turns the key, the bike roars to life, vibrating beneath them like a trembling beast. Their thighs bump, and Felix realizes that it isn’t that big a deal now, when they’ve slept together twice, and Kade has been ferrying him between places. He swallows, thinking about the day he has to leave. He shoves that thought aside.
“Ready?” Kade asks over the engine’s growl.
“Yeah.” And Felix hesitates before slipping his arms around Kade’s waist. He’ll only be in Meadowfall for a couple of months. And Kade won’t mind, will he, if he stayed with Felix through the morning sickness?
Kade turns at the contact, as though surprised, but his helmet hides his eyes. Felix edges closer, holds his breath, and hugs him a little tighter. Against his forearms, Kade’s abs are warm and solid. Felix resists the urge to trail his fingers over them. Instead, he looks over Kade’s shoulder, watching as he wheels them out of the driveway.
With a roar, they take off down the street, merging easily into the mid-morning traffic. The wind sweeps Kade’s pinewood scent into Felix’s helmet, and they ride along the roads, turning corner after corner until Kade pulls them into the department store’s parking lot.
Inside the store, they pass glass cases of jewelry, sections of wicker chairs. Felix’s heart thumps when they walk by the baby clothes. It takes all his willpower not to turn for a second look, when Kade watches him sideways. Felix clenches his fists, ignoring little pastel-colored dresses and tiny shoes, and his mind whispers How much do the jumpers cost? Which shirt is the cutest?
He releases his breath when they step into the kitchen utensils section. The mixing bowls gleam at him, cool and unsympathetic. Felix lowers his gaze. Kade hadn’t wanted children, even before they broke up.
“Wanna grab the lemons? I’ll get the sugar,” Kade says, studying him.
Felix nods. He picks the lemons out, and when Kade returns with a packet of cane sugar, they head to the disposable goods aisle, where pastel-colored plates sit with plain white ones. Felix thinks about children’s birthday parties, and how a child will fit in with other school kids if he has only one father. He glances down at his belly. You’ll forgive me for that, won’t you?
At the register, loaded up with placards and lemonade ingredients, Felix reaches for his wallet. Kade has his card out before Felix even blinks. “That’s not fair,” Felix says
Kade’s gaze slides over to him. “I’ll take the profits of whatever we make today. Sounds fair?”
It sounds like a decent deal, if a risky one. They have no idea how a lemonade stand will do. Kade could be losing his investment, and it would be Felix’s fault. “Fine, I suppose.”
Pulling his hand away from his wallet feels like defeat, so Felix makes a decision—a second plan he can rely on, if they don’t earn anything off the lemonade. This decision he tucks away
