He took a deep breath and was brutally honest with himself. He’d told himself guilt was the reason he was there. Maybe it was, but not only because he got to spend time with Cherise when Alexa couldn’t. No, it was redemption. For how he had treated her the day before. To ease his conscience, or to make it up to her, he didn’t know. Either way, he was there, and he was going to make sure she knew he wasn’t all bad.
He knocked on the door. Again when he heard nothing inside. A long while later, he heard some shuffling. Then the door opened. He almost dropped everything in his hands.
‘You’re, um...you’re...’ He cleared his throat. He couldn’t...point out what the problem was without telling her that he had looked at her chest. But not pointing it out meant he studiously had to avoid looking down. He gritted his teeth, then thought it might look intimidating and offered her a smile. ‘You’re okay,’ he finished lamely.
She folded her arms. Doing so should have covered the flesh spilling out of the top of the loose nightgown she wore. Instead, because of the sheer generosity of her breasts, the movement pushed them together instead.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘I heard you’re sick.’
‘Yes.’
He frowned. ‘I was sorry to hear that.’
‘Thank you.’
He gestured to the bags in his hands. ‘Do you think I could come in?’
‘Why?’
‘I...’ Was he really this bad at showing he cared about something? ‘I thought I’d make you some soup.’
She studied him, expression unreadable, though there were dark rings around her eyes. Seconds later, as if she knew he’d seen it, she sagged against the doorframe. ‘It’s a bad bout of nausea. I thought because things weren’t so bad in my first trimester—’ She shrugged. ‘Apparently my babies hate me.’
‘They don’t hate you,’ he said automatically.
‘I appreciate that.’ She exhaled slowly. ‘You can come in. But you can’t cook anything. I’m pretty sure I’d throw up if you did.’ She cast a look at him. ‘That’s not a reflection on your cooking or anything.’
‘Thanks,’ he said dryly.
He followed her inside, closing the door behind him. He wasn’t sure what to do now that his grand plan wouldn’t work. Plus, seeing her like this was a distraction. She’d gone back to the sofa, curled up and closed her eyes, as if he weren’t in her space. And he shouldn’t have been.
There wasn’t much he could do about morning sickness. With a cold or flu he could ply her with medication, encourage her to sleep. But constant nausea? Enough that she couldn’t come in to work? What was he supposed to do about that?
Since she wasn’t looking, he asked the internet that question. Then he wandered into her kitchen, set down the things he’d bought, and looked in her cupboards. They were meticulously packed. He couldn’t see what order they were in, but they were definitely in order. Same with the fridge. He tried not to disturb anything as he looked for what the internet suggested. Minutes later, he walked into the kitchen, set the tea on the coffee table and crouched down in front of her.
‘Alexa?’ She opened one eye. Somehow, she managed a glare with it. He resisted his smile. ‘Have you eaten anything today?’
‘Some toast this morning.’
‘This morning?’
‘I haven’t really had the energy for much.’
‘Okay.’ He frowned. ‘Well, the internet said something bland would do you good.’
‘Sounds amazing.’
He chuckled softly. ‘How about some brown rice? Plain avocado? Or toast with peanut butter and banana? Broth?’
Her other eye opened. ‘Sounds like you’re trying to get nutrients into me.’
‘They said it would be best if what you ate had nutrients in it.’
‘They?’
He scratched the back of his head when his skin began to prickle with heat. ‘The internet.’
‘You went on the internet for this?’
‘Did any of what I offered sound appealing to you?’ he asked instead of answering.
‘The toast,’ she replied after a moment. ‘It’s not the most appealing, but it’s the easiest option, which we’ll both be grateful for if I end up throwing it up.’
He appreciated her logic, but he would actually feel better if he could put some more effort into whatever he made her. To assuage the guilt, he told himself. For redemption, he added. Not because he cared enough to put more effort into it.
‘On it. Also, I made you some ginger tea.’
‘Did the internet tell you to do that?’ She was teasing him, giving him a small smile to show it.
He offered her a hand. ‘If you want me to help you sit up, you won’t get the answer to that.’
‘It would almost be worth it.’
But she took his hand and he helped her up. Her colour didn’t look good, but that made sense since she was nauseous and hadn’t eaten since the morning. He handed her the tea. Her fingers brushed his as she did, and for some bizarre reason a shiver went through him. Bizarre, because things were weird with them, and she was sick, and the only reason he was in her flat was because he felt guilty. He shouldn’t feel attraction in this moment—or whatever it was that caused that shiver. It also had nothing to do with her cleavage, impressive and visible as it was. It was simply her, and how much she intrigued and confused him.
He exhaled, leaving her to the tea as he went to make her toast. It was quick work. When he handed it to her, he thought he’d head back to the kitchen, start making a broth even though she didn’t seem to want it. But she said, ‘Wait.’
He turned. ‘Yeah?’
‘You didn’t make yourself anything?’
His mouth curved. ‘Did I make myself some peanut butter and banana toast as well? No. Surprisingly.’
‘No need to be smug about your ability to eat something other than this.’ But her eyes were warm. ‘Thank you.’
‘You don’t have to thank me.’
‘Why not?’
She tore a small piece off the toast and put it into her mouth, looking at him expectantly.
‘Oh...er... It wasn’t a big deal.’
She chewed and finished. Swallowed. ‘It is to me.’
There was a brief moment where they stared at one another before he realised he’d better look away if he wanted to keep his sanity. Although deep down he knew it wasn’t his sanity he was worried about.
‘Will you sit down?’ she asked, looking down now, too.
‘Do you want me to?’
‘I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want you to.’
‘Good point.’ He smiled at the dry tone. ‘I’ll just grab myself something to drink.’
‘Yeah, of course. Anything in the fridge is yours.’
He went to the kitchen, got himself a sparkling water, and went back to the lounge. It didn’t even occur to him to dawdle, or delay long enough that she would be done with her meal. The opposite, in fact. He wanted to sit with her, talk to her, and he didn’t know what it meant.
Or he did, but he preferred not to think about it.
When he got back, he saw her toast looked the same as it had when he left.
‘Feel sick?’
‘Not at the moment. I’m waiting to see how my stomach’s going to react to it.’ She took a slice of banana off the toast and ate it. ‘It seems cruel to me that someone who enjoys food as much as I do can’t eat it.’
‘But it hasn’t been like this your entire pregnancy, you said?’
‘No, it hasn’t. I have been nauseous, but it’s been pretty consistently in the mornings before work and the evenings after. I thought I was lucky.’ She groaned. ‘Turns out my body was lulling me into a false sense of security.’
‘How has today been different?’
‘You mean apart from the waves of nausea all day?’ She tore off another piece of toast, but didn’t eat it. Instead, she patted the seat next to her. He didn’t even hesitate. Just obeyed. ‘I’ve been throwing up more, though that seems consistent with being nauseous more, doesn’t it? I’ve also been a little dizzier, but that could be because I haven’t been eating.’
‘You should have been.’
‘I know,’ she agreed, easily enough that he knew she wasn’t feeling herself. ‘But it seemed like a lot of energy to go to the kitchen and get something to eat when I could lie here.’
He studied her. Took a long drink of his water to make sure he really wanted to say what he thought he wanted to say. Sighed.
‘Look, you can argue with me when you have energy for it later, okay?’
Her eyebrows rose. ‘A promising start to a conversation.’
‘It’s concern.’ He paused. ‘You have to look after yourself, Alexa. That’s how you’re looking after your babies right now. By looking after yourself.’
Her hand went to her belly, before she brought it back to the toast. She put a piece in her mouth, then opened her palm as if to agree with him. Something in the gesture made her seem so vulnerable, he wanted to pull her into his arms and comfort her. Hell, there was a part of him that wanted to do that regardless of the vulnerability.
He settled for edging closer to her.
She deserved to have people to care about her. She deserved that she care about herself, which he thought she might struggle with. He had no proof, and he wouldn’t dare ask, since he was already pushing his luck with their current conversation. But something about Alexa made him think that she put others ahead of herself. Even with her pregnancy. She was trying so hard to make things with Cherise work. Not for herself, he thought, but for her restaurant.
Part of that was because Lee had taught her she couldn’t let her guard down. And yes, when he’d offered Victor Fourie that job, he’d shown her that, too. Now she was terrified of going on leave because she thought it would put all she’d worked for in jeopardy.
Someone who’d grown up as she had would hate that idea. They’d hate that it might result in failure, too. He couldn’t imagine how much that would mess with someone’s mind. He could, however, see that he’d contributed to her fears. That his question the night before, about her being good at everything, would add to that pressure. Which would explain how tense she’d got.
He would apologise for it. Not now. Now he had a different mission.
‘You’re going to have to take care of yourself when they’re here, too,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s the most important thing, your health. Not only because they need you to be healthy to take care of them.’
‘What else is there?’
‘Your happiness. It’s going to be important to them. They’ll want to see you living your life as you would have even if they weren’t there. That means taking care of yourself, making sure you’re as important in your life as they are.’
‘You speak as if you know.’
‘I...do.’
It felt a little like a betrayal, admitting that. But if he had to betray his mother—just a little—to make Alexa see she was as important as her children, then so be it. Hell, he reckoned his mother might even agree. She’d called him two days after that dinner with Alexa and told him she liked his new girlfriend.
‘The baby situation is complicated,’ Nina had said, ‘but I can see why you couldn’t move on without giving things with her a try. She’s refreshing.’
‘You’re good at it,’ Alexa said, piercing through the haze of memories.
‘What?’
‘Caring for people.’
The words hit him in the gut. ‘I’ve had a lot of practice.’
‘With your mom? Inference,’ she said when he looked at her.
‘I wouldn’t say I took care of her.’
‘I didn’t say that you did. Only that you cared for her.’
He almost laughed at how she’d caught him out. He didn’t because it wasn’t funny.
‘She needed a lot of support with the fibromyalgia.’
‘Support can sometimes mean caring for them.’
‘That’s not what happened with my mom,’ he said tersely.
‘It was a compliment, Benjamin.’ Her expression was a combination of bewilderment, kindness, and...hurt? Had he hurt her? But then she clarified. ‘Speaking as someone who didn’t have it all that much in her life, it’s certainly a compliment.’
‘I’m sorry.’ He stared at the bottle in his hand. ‘I seem to be apologising a lot to you these days.’
She shrugged. ‘It’s because I rub you up the wrong way. What?’ she asked with a little laugh. ‘You don’t think I noticed? It’s kind of hard not to.’
‘To be fair, I think the reverse applies, too, and yet you don’t seem to apologise nearly as often as I do.’
‘I’m more irreverent.’ She gave him a half-smile. ‘I’m definitely less in touch with my emotions. I find them—’ she wrinkled her nose ‘—inconvenient.’
He laughed, and some of the tension in his stomach dissipated. ‘I’m not much more in touch with my emotions. They’re inconvenient as hell, and it’s easier to ignore them.’
‘The apologies tell me you don’t do the easier thing,’ she pointed out. ‘You might not be able to deal with them very well, but you feel them. It’s more than I can say for myself.’
‘And why’s that?’
She heaved out a sigh. ‘I don’t know. No, no, I do,’ she interrupted herself. ‘Honestly, it’s just... I guess ignoring them is what I’m used to. If I had felt every little thing when I was a kid, I wouldn’t function nearly as well as I do today.’
She began to eat again, slowly, and he waited until she was done to ask the questions tumbling into his head. When she was done, she set down the remaining toast on the table. Then she moved closer to him. His heart thudded, but she didn’t do anything else. Not one more thing, even though his body felt as if it was bracing for impact.
‘Do you want to talk about it?’ he asked hoarsely.
‘I don’t think so.’ Her expression was uncertain when she met his eyes. ‘Is that okay?’
‘Of course. We don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.’
‘I will, someday. It seems like a lot of effort to think about it now.’
She rested her head on his shoulder. He froze—but not for long. Slowly, so he wouldn’t spook her, he lifted his arm. She immediately snuggled into his chest.
It was a good thing he was sitting, or the way his knees had gone weak would have taken him to the ground.
‘Tell me what your day was like?’ she asked. ‘Was Cherise as hungover as she should have been after last night?’
Somehow, he managed to laugh. But as he told her about his day, it felt more natural, them sitting like this, talking. He was honest about how things had gone with Cherise, and she didn’t seem upset about it. She asked him questions, laughed at his description of how terribly he’d done. He kept talking when she shifted onto her side, curling into much the same position he’d found her in. Except now she was curled into his side, then lying with her head on his lap. When she faltered he lowered his voice but kept talking, since it seemed to soothe her.
She was fast asleep shortly after, but he didn’t get up as he should have. He stroked her hair, which was messy and somehow beautiful. He brushed her skin, bronze and smooth. He sat there, her warmth comforting something inside him. Much too long later, he took the dishes to the kitchen and began making her something to eat for when she got up. When he was done with that, he let himself out, but not without one last look in her direction.
She looked so peaceful, lying under the blanket he’d covered her with. His heart did something in his chest. Lurched, turned over, filled—he wasn’t sure
of the description. He only knew that seeing her, speaking her with her, caring for her...
It had changed him. Something had changed between them, too. He wondered if she would acknowledge it. He wondered if he would.
Chapter 14
She was feeling better the next day. She hadn’t thrown up the toast Benjamin made her, and she’d slept through the entire night. It didn’t seem normal to feel better when the day before she’d basically been knocked out. She supposed that was pregnancy. Or she hoped it was. If it wasn’t, everyone in class, including her, was going to get more than they’d bargained for.
She had a nice long shower, got dressed, and went to the kitchen. Everything was in its place; it was as if Benjamin hadn’t been there. And maybe he hadn’t been. It seemed consistent with the state she’d been in the day before. Maybe she’d conjured him up, and he hadn’t been sweet and patient and caring. He hadn’t made her laugh, held her, stayed with her until she’d fallen asleep.
Except when she opened her fridge she found a glass container with clear broth in it and a sticky note—she had no idea where he’d found one.
In case you’re feeling up to it. B.
B. B was definitely Benjamin. She couldn’t deny that he’d been there any more. Him leaving food for her meant she hadn’t imagined he was sweet and patient and caring either. And if that was true, she had to believe that he’d made her laugh, held her, stayed with her as she’d fallen asleep. And he’d cooked. For her.
She took a long, deep breath as she removed the broth from the fridge and heated it up. But it didn’t help, and she spent the entire time eating the flavourful liquid quietly sobbing. She was certain it was pregnancy hormones. Mostly. She supposed that was the problem.
But when was the last time someone in her life had checked on her when she was ill? When was the last time she’d let someone in her life do that?
Kenya would have, if Alexa let her. She had, once upon a time. When Kenya had started working at Infinity, something had clicked between them and they’d got along well. But Alexa had confined that relationship to the restaurant. She’d thought it best, easier, better for the restaurant. Now, after the entire Benjamin debacle, Alexa wondered if it was simply better for her. If she didn’t go out with Kenya, she wouldn’t risk getting hurt. Except by doing that, she’d hurt Kenya. And that, by some cruel twist of fate, had hurt her, too.
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