His Private Chef (by Amycee) novel Chapter 151

Chapter 151

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I debated telling Liam about the message. Every time I reached for my phone, my chest tightened. If I showed him, he’d clamp down harder, maybe even refuse to let me step outside again. I couldn’t live like that, constantly under guard.

Cassie could be bluffing. Maybe discovering my pregnancy had rattled her enough that she lashed out in empty threats. I told myself that over and over, even though the unease curled tighter in my

gut.

That night, Sophia settled beside me on the couch as we watched our favorite show. Somewhere along the way, it had become our rule, neither of us watched an episode without the other, no matter what.

Because watching without the other was basically betrayal.

But my mind wasn’t in it. I laughed late, missed punchlines, drifted in and out.

Sophia’s gaze narrowed. “Are you okay, Emily?”

“I’m fine,” I said, forcing a smile. “Probably just the hormones messing with me.”

”

She didn’t look convinced, her eyes lingering on me a beat too long. But then she sighed and leaned back. “Alright. I’ll let it go, for now. But when you’re ready to talk, you know I’m here.”

The next morning, I was set on finally making it to the studio. Yesterday had been hijacked by my mom and Laura with their surprise baby–shopping spree, but today nothing was going to stop me.

As I got dressed, pulling my laptop bag over my shoulder, a glint of light caught my eye. Laura’s sunglasses rested on the armchair, forgotten after she’d all but bullied me into bed the evening before, fussing until she was satisfied I was resting.

I picked them up, turning them in my hand. Maybe I’d make a quick stop at the Blacks‘ house to return them before heading to the studio.

Laura’s face lit up when she saw me at her door. “You came to visit!”

I held out the sunglasses. “I came to return these.”

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Chapter 151

288 iVouchers

“Good thing I forgot them then,” she teased, taking my hand and drawing me inside. “Otherwise you’d never come visiting.”

“That’s not true,” I protested, laughing.

I was halfway to excusing myself when she said, “Do you want to see Liam’s childhood pictures?”

My curiosity snapped to attention. “Yes.”

She returned with a thick album, its edges worn with age. Together we flipped through snapshots of Liam as a boy. He was undeniably cute, but far too serious for a child, tiny brows furrowed like he had stock markets to worry about. He frowned at birthdays, at toys, even at poor Santa.

“He never smiled,” I teased.

Laura chuckled. “That was Liam. Always too grown for his own age.”

I snapped one photo with my phone and sent it to him with a caption: Please, I don’t want a grumpy child like the father.

His reply came instantly: Great. Sophia wasn’t enough, now Mom’s on your side too?

When I showed Laura the message, she burst out laughing.

I texted back: I’m having way too much fun collecting ammunition. I’ll use it later.

His response: Fun’s over. You’ve worn out your welcome, time to leave before I lose all my

secrets.

You wish, I shot back. I’m going nowhere.

Don’t forget your mom loves me. Embarrassing pictures of you will be mine with one phone call.

I grinned. Please. My baby pictures belong in a magazine. No bad photos to find.

We’d see about that.

As I flipped another page, I noticed something curious, in almost every photo, Liam clutched an airplane.

“Was he obsessed?” I asked.

Laura smiled, fond and a little wistful. “Planes were his whole world. He wanted to be a pilot.”

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