My Husband Was Gone for Three Years, and Both My Mother-in-Law and I Got Pregnant Chapter 04

My Husband Was Gone for Three Years, and Both My Mother-in-Law and I Got Pregnant Chapter 04

Dylan went silent.

“Kevin told me to ask you for help if I needed anything. What, you won’t even do this much for me?”

I deliberately made my voice tremble.

Dylan panicked.

“Alison, that’s not what I meant. Fine, I’ll stay.”

For the next three weeks, Dylan lived at my place.

He made breakfast before leaving for work, rushed back at noon to make lunch, returned again in the evening to cook dinner, helped me wash up, and massaged my ankle to improve circulation.

“Alison, why are you crying?”

My sobbing woke him in the middle of the night.

“I… I just miss Kevin.”

I sniffled pitifully.

“When he was here, I fell asleep in his arms every night. Now I’m hurt, my ankle aches, and I feel miserable. It makes me want someone to hold even more.”

“What should I do?” Dylan scratched his head. “Buy you a body pillow?”

Dylan had stayed single ever since he gave up pursuing me.

I had assumed he was still recovering from the heartbreak.

Apparently, he was simply clueless.

“A body pillow isn’t warm. It feels fake.”

“Then should I call Kevin?”

I pretended to get angry.

“What good would that do? He can’t come back, and he’d only worry about me.”

“Why don’t you lie beside me for a while? You can leave after I fall asleep.”

Dylan hesitated.

“All right.”

He sounded as though he was reluctantly agreeing to a terrible inconvenience.

Dressed in a T-shirt and shorts, Dylan lay beside me as stiff as a board.

When I wrapped my arms around his waist from behind, his entire body jolted.

“Al… Alison…”

I pretended not to hear him.

My fingers crawled over his stomach, counting each ridge of muscle.

One, two, three…

Eight.

He was in much better shape than Kevin.

“Alison, you…”

My hand traveled lower, sliding over his abs and past his navel.

Dylan caught my wrist.

“Alison, don’t.”

I stopped.

For several seconds, neither of us moved.

“Do you want me to stop?” I whispered.

Dylan stared at me, breathing hard.

Then he released my wrist, turned around, and pulled me against him.

“No,” he said hoarsely. “I don’t.”

I hooked my uninjured leg around his waist and pressed my foot against his thigh.

How miraculous.

My ankle stopped hurting.

That night, we crossed every line.

Six weeks later, I discovered I was pregnant.