Fall For My Ex’s Mafia Dad
Chapter 214

We all stay outside until the sun starts to go down, which happens sooner than I thought it would - but then again, Kent and I did wake up around 1:00, so I suppose I shouldn't be as surprised as I am. Janeen gets to her feet first, stretching. "Well," she says, putting on an affected British accent that I know she uses when she's feeling fancy, "shall we dress for dinner?"

"What's on the menu tonight?" Daniel asks, smiling up at her but not getting to his feet yet.

She shrugs. "I don't know. Whatever the chef can whip up with hot dogs and wonder bread, I guess."

Kent audibly sighs behind me, making me laugh.

"Not tickling your taste buds, Kent?" Janeen asks, turning to him with a wide, teasing grin.

"Who put Fay in charge of stocking the ship with food?" he murmurs, shaking his head.

"Hey!" I protest, spinning to glare at him and pointing an accusatory finger at Daniel. "Your son was in charge of that! I accept no blame for this!"

Everyone laughs and turns to Daniel, my dad in particular raising an eyebrow in inquiry, though I know he doesn't really care much about what he gets for dinner as long as there's meat and bread involved. Dad's not picky. "What!" Daniel says, looking around a little sheepishly. "My job trained me to smuggle, not to plan menus. I had no idea I was supposed to hire a chef or something - I figured what the crew eats will be fine for us for ten days."

"You took the time to make sure the liquor cabinet was liberally stocked, though," Jerome says, grinning at him.

"Well," Daniel says loftily, getting to his feet. "Some things are priorities."

Jerome gets up too then, and so does my dad, but when I move to get up Kent's fingers put light pressure on my arm, asking me to stay behind. I pause for a moment and then lean back as Janeen turns to us while the other three head for the door into the ship. "Not coming?" Janeen asks, looking between Kent and I.

"I think we're going to stay out here for a second longer," I say, giving her a soft smile.

"Okay," she replies with a shrug. "Cook wants us at dinner in half an hour - he told me this morning and says he's not keeping it hot for us. Can I get you anything?"

"Um," I say, hesitant, not wanting to put her out of her way -

Janeen just tilts her head at me, giving me a big smile. "Just ask, Fay. You're giving me a new life in Europe, so I can get you something from inside the ship. Once. I think that's a fair trade."

"Could you bring me some of that tea I like? With the ginger in it?" I bite my lip, eager. The baby's been good all day, but I'm feeling a slight bit of nausea come over me now.

"You got it," she replies, giving me a wink. Then she, too, disappears through the door and into the ship.

"Baby giving you trouble?" Kent asks, rubbing a hand up and down my arm.

"I think so," I sigh, half turning to him and rubbing a hand up and down my belly. "The ship has been so steady all day - and I really do feel better when I'm out here and can see the horizon. But something just started up, so I think the little turnip is upset." "Turnip?" he asks, his voice derisive.

"Yeah," I say, smiling a little at him, ignoring his disdain. "About 17 weeks today, so. The baby's about the size of a turnip."

"Really," Kent murmurs, looking down at my stomach. "And what was it before?"

"An avocado," I reply quietly, smiling.

Kent frowns and looks up at me. "Fay," he says, shaking his head. "An avocado is bigger than a turnip -"

"It is?" I ask, frowning in turn.

He bursts out laughing at me, shaking his head. "Where did you get these baby sizes?"

"From the internet," I sigh, leaning back against him. "I don't know. I like thinking of the baby as something more than an 'it,' which is what we've been falling back on since we don't know the gender. And I refuse to take a side in the Prince or Princess debate so," I shrug, "avocado/turnip it is."

"Well," Kent murmurs, nudging my ear with his nose, "we could just name the baby, and have it done with. Then you wouldn't have to rely on vegetables, which I know you hate anyway."

I stick out my tongue a little, admitting it, and I can feel his laughter reverberate in his chest.

The door opens again and Janeen comes out with a little tea tray with a mismatched set of pot and cups. To my surprise, Kent gets up and takes it from her, thanking her.

"I added a few little cookies," Janeen says to me with a smile, pointing to them. "As I know it is time for your sixth feeding of the day, Fay."

"Every time you do something nice you don't have to say something mean, Janeen," I say, scooting back on the lounge chair so that I can lean against the backrest. "We get it. You're tough."

"Well, I gotta do something to keep my reputation up," she calls, waving over her shoulder as she steps back into the ship.

Kent places the tray between us, sitting down on the far end of the lounge chair and creating a cute little table between us. Then, as I watch, he pours me a cup of the ginger tea and skips the sugar cubes in their little bowl, instead reaching for the little pot of honey and spooning a dallop into my cup before stirring.

"How did you know I took it like that?" I ask, grinning and wrapping my arms around my knees as I watch him.

"You like honey," he murmurs, his attention still on the tray as he opens the packet of cookies and puts a few out on a plate. "I noticed. Plus, ginger and honey is good together." Carefully, he lifts the saucer holding the teacup and hands it to me. "It'd be better if there was a little lemon to add too, but," he shrugs. "We can trick you into eating fruits and vegetables when we get to land."

"Really? Lemon?" I say, curious and taking a sip f my tea, enjoying the way the warmth runs down my throat. And, in particular, the view of my handsome mafia boyfriend over the rim of the cup. "Mmhmm," he hums in affirmation, moving the tray to the ground and scooting closer to me. "And turmeric, which is good for your mind."

"Where did you learn to be so healthy?" I ask, smiling at him.

"In Italy," he says seriously, meeting my eye. "We lived on a great deal of land and mostly ate things that grew right outside our back door. It was a better way of life than living in an American city."

"I like the city," I murmur, gazing at him a little. "I've never lived anywhere else."

"You'll like the country too," he replies, his eyes drifting down to my lips a little.

"I'll like living where you are," I say back, smiling. Then I glance down at my stomach again, where I feel the baby giving a few little fluttering taps. "I think the baby likes it too."

"Really?" he asks, looking down at my stomach, interested. "Is it..."

"Turnip is moving," I say, laughing a little and moving my hand to my stomach. "I can feel it."

Kent gives me a little glare. "Please," he says, shaking his head. "We're not calling the baby Turnip. Not even for a week."

I laugh at this, grinning at him. "Well, Bell Pepper is next! Which is cuter!" I turn my smile down at my stomach then, running a fond hand over it. "Little baby Pepper."

"That is better," Kent murmurs, and then he surprises me by bending over and resting his weight on his elbows, bringing his face quite close to my stomach as if he's studying it carefully, trying to figure out the baby growing inside. "Though I think I'd rather not name the kid after anything edible."

I bite my lip a little at how cute it is, to see my gigantic mafia boss thinking about our tiny turnip-sized baby. Softly, I lift my hand from my stomach and start to run it through his hair.

"Well," I say, trying not to sound over-eager. "What names do you like?"