Chapter's song: Me too by Meghan Trainor

Marianne is sleeping contented in her crib, and I finally step away from her room. I try to start the monitor thing, but the stupid device starts to beep and I pull the plug before Marianne wakes up. My heart races as I gaze at the baby. Poor girl, she was utterly exhausted from all the crying she did before, so she ignores the strenuous beeps.

Thank God. I don't think I have any more energy left.

Mark left to try to call Scott and let him know about the fever, but not until Marianne was much better. We didn't want to ruin their date.

I step out of the room but I don't close the door completely, just to be sure we can hear her if she wakes up.

But please don't wake up. Pretty please with a cherry on top, please.

When I take a look at the bathroom where we showered her, everything has been cleaned up. When did Mark do this? I'm not complaining, though. I'm absolutely drained and the last thing I want to do is clean everything.

I drag my feet to the kitchen. Stifling a yawn, I make my way to the kitchen counter, leaning both arms over the counter. Mark's blue eyes turn to me as he finishes his call.

"Are they freaking out?" I ask knowing Emily will come back home any minute now.

"They didn't answer."

I lift my head, blinking at him. "For real?"

Mark shrugs. "They might be busy," he wriggles his brows. Good grief. The douchebag has returned. "Hungry?" He says in a sultry voice, and I know he's just messing with me.

"Actually, yes. I'm starving." I yawn again.

Mark's lips curve up. "Does Pizza sounds alright?"

I shrug. Anything at this point sounds delicious.

He takes out his phone and taps on it for a moment, before placing it on the counter.

"What, is that all? Don't you need to call or something?"

His smile widens. He is the prince of England, duh.

Shaking my head, I pace to the fridge to grab something to drink. There's nothing much. Plain water and milk bottles. Poor Emily. She's become one of those health freaks like Hugh. She always complained about him, but ever since being a Mom, she's concerned about eating organic food. Good thing she doesn't struggle with money, though. If I wanted to get everything organic, I'd have to write more than the measly advice column they had me on.

Ugh. I need to work on that.

Ten minutes later, just as I've gotten bored from scrolling through my Facebook, the door bell rings. That was fast. Mark's chair makes a sound as he stands up, boasting about having everything he needs as his service. Okay. I'm not sure if that's what he's actually thinking, but the wide smile and puffed out chest makes me believe so.

What a show-off.

I follow him with my eyes, and Samuel is at the door, holding a pizza box in his hands. No surprise there. I am thankful, though. It's been a rough night and my stomach is roaring with hunger. He passes the pizza to Mark, before saluting me with a small smile on his face. I grin back.

Mark places the food on the dining room table before gazing at me. "I think we've earned red wine," he doesn't wait for my answer, he stomps to the kitchen, where Emily and Scott have a small wine cellar inside the walk-in food pantry. We do deserve a glass of wine, so I keep quiet and go to the cupboard to get the plates and wine glasses. He strolls back, with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

I shake my head, but my lips curve up. That must be the most expensive bottle in the cellar. Mark looks up at that moment, and his baby-blue eyes sparkle as I press my lips tight.

"I hope you like the four-cheese pizza," he comments off-handedly as he uncorks the bottle. He sniffs it, closing his eyes for a second. "This smells good."

He pours the wine on both glasses and I reach out for mine. "Scott is going to be pissed, huh?" I take a sip at the same time he chuckles. It is good. In a way, it amazes me that Mark seems to make this ordinary dinner, into some sort of bad-ass, impromptu thing. He makes a sound as he drinks his wine, and I can't help but stare at his Adam's apple as he swallows. My stomach tightens and I shift in my seat, feeling out of place.

"So, do tell me Kate, are you mad because I called you a prude? Because you wouldn't get offended if you weren't one." He swirled the wine in his glass, before taking another sip and staring right into me.

And just like that, the spell is broken.

"You're an idiot, Mark."

He chuckles, reaching out for the pizza box. "I'm not arguing with that one." He pulls out his slice and cheese strings follow his hand. It smells great, my stomach churns. "I did get pizza, though."

He's so full of it. But I am hungry, so I ignore his stupid comment and dig in.

Three wine glasses later, Mark doesn't sound so bad as he's talking about that time he went on a safari in South Africa. He keeps showing off, but I've never been there, so I'm immersed in his story right before the moment he finishes it. "So, I jump off the Jeep and I ran through the dessert, knowing that a lion was right on my tail."

I crack up. "And let me guess, you out ran the lion?"

Mark smile widens. "How did you guess?"

I roll my eyes. "You got me right until the moment you said you jumped off the car. I mean, who does that?"

He pulls back his head, laughing hard. "I did jump off!"

I raise an eyebrow. I could see him doing something as stupid and reckless as that. "And the lion?"

"There was a lion," he raised his glass and finished the last of his wine, his eyes glinting mischievously. "The lion was sort of a puppy, though."

I laugh harder. "Smart-ass!"

"I'm not an idiot anymore!" he laughs with me.

We clean up everything, Mark makes sure to leave the empty wine bottle on top of the kitchen counter, right in front of the door, making sure that Scott doesn't miss it.

He's such a dork.

I did enjoy his dumb stories, though. Having dinner with him was the most fun I'd had in a long time.

Sighing, my brows crease. I think it's time I get out more...

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