I’d slept with him without telling him I was pregnant with another man’s baby.
How could I fix that? How could he ever trust me after he found out? I didn’t deserve a man as wonderful and loving as Noah.
Chapter Fifteen
Noah
She was still asleep when I slipped out of bed and quickly dressed. With light steps and a happy heart, I made my way into the kitchen. I would swear months had passed with everything that had happened last night, but it was just Thursday.
Opening up the fridge, I pulled out eggs and milk to make her either the fluffiest scrambled eggs with cheese or an omelet for breakfast. I found a container of feta and some baby spinach and took those out along with the butter.
I moved around her kitchen, feeling more at home than I’d felt in a long time. Warming up the cast iron skillet, I had to smile. Throwing butter in the pan, I let it heat while I cracked the eggs into a bowl and found a whisk to beat them.
All the while, I couldn’t get thoughts of her or last night out of my head. She wanted us to be together, and I wasn’t going to get in my own way and screw up a good thing. Max was right; someone would snatch her up, and I wanted that someone to be me, so I would treat her right and love her in ways she has never been loved before.
With the eggs whisked and the butter sizzling, I emptied the bowl into the pan and dusted it with salt and pepper. My mother taught us that cooking was love, and she made sure every one of her boys could feed themselves. She didn’t believe cooking was a woman’s job and called that silly viewpoint nonsense, and I agreed with her.
At the sink, I noticed a scrub brush with bristles circling it and a rounded sponge on top. I needed to ask Kandra where she got it because one of those would work perfectly for all those glasses I couldn’t fit my hand in to wash or my thermos. Putting the bowl in the sink, I rinsed the spinach, carried the wet leaves back to the counter, and continued to make her breakfast. Sprinkling feta on the perfect egg and spinach mixture, I watched it melt and marveled at how much I enjoyed making her breakfast. This was something I could get used to—wanted to get used to.
As I cleaned up, I thought about how beautiful she looked, how peaceful her features had been when I slipped out of bed. I couldn’t get the big dumb grin off my face. Everything was finally going my way, and I couldn’t be happier. The scent of the cheese hit my nose, and I thought maybe I’d missed something like garlic or diced onion to make it perfect, but I hadn’t seen any in the house.
With a shrug, I made a mental note to pick some up for her. Carrying the dishes I had dirtied to the sink, I hand washed them and stacked them on the drying rack.
There was no way I would leave the place a mess. On the counter, next to the sink, was a little rack with lots of arms. My brow furrowed as I puzzled over it. The best I could come up with was a sponge dryer or a shot glass holder?
If it was the latter, I’d have to have a talk with her about her drinking problem. I chuckled. I didn’t give a damn if she had a shot glass rack, but the thing looked pitifully empty. Maybe I needed to pick her up a set of glasses for it. With the last dish washed, I wiped the edge of the counter and headed back to the omelet. While I put it in the microwave to keep it warm, I wondered how I would break the news to my brothers? What would my mother say? While I knew my brothers would tease me, I also had a feeling they’d be happy for us. After all, they’d been pushing so hard this couldn’t possibly come as a surprise.
It might be a tougher sell to my mother. Kandra hurt me when we split, and Mom might go all lioness on her.
I scanned the cleaned kitchen. Everything had come together quickly, but I wasn’t ready to wake her yet, so I filled the coffeepot with water and looked around for the grounds.
Within minutes, the fragrant smell of coffee filled the air. I pulled a couple of mugs from the cabinet and set them down before going on a hunt for cream and sugar.
In the fridge, I found sugar cookie flavored creamer. Who wanted sugar cookie flavored coffee? With a shrug, I added it to both mugs and stood back, inhaling the smell of a good morning. There was nothing quite like a good hot cup of coffee first thing in the AM.
I glanced toward the bedroom, wondering if I should wake her or let her sleep a bit longer. I wanted to wake her up because I wanted to spend more time with her. Part of me was worried about how she’d feel if she woke up and realized I wasn’t there. Would she think I’d crept out in the middle of the night like a coward?
All the worry and self-doubt bothered me. I wasn’t the type to get so worked up. I’d never been hung up on a woman before her and hadn’t been hung up on any woman after. Settling down hadn’t been in the cards.
Lifting the ceramic mug to my lips, I breathed it in and let the essence float over my senses. The sweet and bitter balance seemed nice. I glanced toward her bedroom door again, then took a scalding sip. I was always burning myself lately. I raced for the freezer to grab an ice cube for my coffee.
On the fridge were pictures of her and her mother hugging. Kandra looked so much like her mom, and I knew she was excited to be close to her again. The two of them were inseparable before she left.
A soft sound from the bedroom alerted me that Kandra must be up. The bathroom door closed, and my heart beat faster. Would things be awkward between us because of last night? Would she regret any of it, or could we pick up where we left off?
Nervous and excited, I took another sip of coffee and waited.
The water in the bathroom ran, and I remembered the day I fixed the showerhead. I couldn’t keep a smile off my face.
She walked into the kitchen, saw me, and froze. For a second, she just stood there before a smile crossed her lips. “Good morning,” she said, opening her arms to me.
I stepped in and hugged her, inhaling the sweet scent of her hair. “Good morning. You didn’t think I took off, did you?”
She lifted her shoulders. “It crossed my mind.”
“Not a chance. I made you breakfast.” I let her go and turned toward the microwave. After heating it for thirty seconds, I offered it to her.
A stunned look crossed her face. “Thank you.” There was an odd, breathy quality to her voice that caught my attention.
“There’s also coffee, but it’s burning in hell hot.” I carried the mug I’d filled for her to the table and set it down.
She smiled sweetly, then glanced at the food. Something in her expression shifted, and the sudden urge to smooth over an awkward moment filled me. “I know you love them, but I didn’t see onions or garlic.”
She blinked as if she had no idea how to respond. Instead, she lifted the fork and took a bite. With a thoughtful expression, she chewed and flashed me a quick smile. Everything about the moment felt wrong, but I couldn’t put my finger on why.
“It’s so good,” she said, but I saw she was struggling to swallow.
“If it’s not, that’s okay, you won’t hurt my feelings if you don’t want to eat it.” Something was going on, but she didn’t seem eager to level with me and tell me what it was.
“I noticed your shot glass rack,” I teased, trying to lighten the mood. I gestured to the device, and her gaze flicked toward it, and then swept back to me. “I’m not sure if we need to talk about your drinking problem or buy you glasses to fill it.”
A second passed, then she let out a nervous laugh.
I tried to figure out what I was missing, but she avoided my eyes, put her fork down, and picked up her coffee.
“It’s hot,” I warned again, but she took a quick sip anyway. She smiled through gritted teeth.
“Yep, too hot.” She exhaled and set the mug back down next to her plate. “Might need a new tongue.”
“I burned mine too,” I said with a smile.
She stared through me, deep in thought. I promised myself I’d get to the bottom of this.
Chapter Sixteen
Kandra
Sucking in a slow breath between my teeth, I tried to cool off my scalding ton
gue. The liquid lava stung all the way down my throat until it hit my violently roiling belly. I tried to stare past my confusion and guilt and swallow the pain, but it was no use. Blinking away tears, I needed to figure out how to survive the moment.
Noah had made me breakfast and a delicious breakfast at that. The guy could cook, but my stomach was always tied up in knots first thing in the morning. I’d given up big morning meals in favor of dry toast and water, but he didn’t know that because I stupidly hadn’t told him I was pregnant. Any other time, I’d appreciate this sweet gesture, but as he sat there and smiled at me, I flashed him a grin and tried to figure a way out of this mess.
His hand covered mine on the table, and I glanced down at the touch, then back up to meet his suddenly worried expression. “Is everything all right? You seem off this morning.”
I wanted nothing more than to tell him the whole truth, but as my mouth flooded with saliva, I knew if I opened it, my insides would purge. Swallowing hard, I reasoned with my body that it was just an omelet, no reason to freak out. Not that reasoning with morning sickness had ever worked in the past because it hadn’t.
My hands started to shake, and my stomach turned wildly. I begged my body not to get sick. Just one day off, I just needed one day without throwing up. I hadn’t thought about the potential of this happening last night. What happened between us was incredible and beautiful, but I hadn’t even considered what might happen this morning when we woke up. Of course, he wouldn’t sneak out. That’s not the kind of guy Noah was.
“You’re shaking.” The concern in his voice covered me like a warm blanket as the sickness eased.
“That coffee sure is hot,” I said, trying to cover for everything. Something in me screamed to tell him the truth, but I wasn’t sure I could say the words and keep my stomach in check.
Noah nodded, but his troubled expression didn’t change as he studied my face.
Where did I start? The lack of onions and garlic because both made me so sick I couldn’t eat if they were even in the house? The shot glass rack that was actually a drying rack for baby bottles? How did I explain myself?
Oh, yeah, so I didn’t tell you that I’m pregnant with my ex’s baby, but thanks for the wonderful sex, and that’s not a shot glass rack, it’s for baby bottles.
He would hate me, and rightfully so, but I needed to tell him because it was the right thing to do. The last thing I wanted was to hurt him because I had been dishonest.
I took another bite of eggs and instantly regretted it. The second the feta hit my tongue, my stomach twisted, and I couldn’t force myself to swallow the bite.
“Did I mess it up?” He looked so anxious, and it made me feel worse about everything. I knew he was afraid he screwed up the food, but the problem wasn’t the delicious omelet; it was my lies.
I shook my head as he pulled his hand away and set his coffee mug on the table. Chewing more on the bite, I pushed it to the back of my throat, narrowly missing the gag reflex, and managed to swallow. “You didn’t make yourself anything?” I asked before pushing the plate toward him. “It’s delicious.”
He glanced at it, then at me. “You barely ate.” The look of suspicion in his eyes killed me because he had every right to be skeptical, but I had no idea how to confess. That was the problem with lies. They grew because each lie I told required another to cover it up.
“I don’t really do breakfast much anymore.” I could comfort myself because what I said was the truth, but I knew I wasn’t telling him the whole truth, either. Was telling a partial truth just as bad as an outright lie? I had to hope not.
He seemed to accept my reason and took a bite of the omelet while I made my way to the fridge for a glass of milk. Maybe that would help calm the storm in my gut. While I sipped the milk, I struggled with myself. No more putting it off, no more BS. I needed to come clean and just say it. How hard could it be?
Hey, Noah, I’m pregnant. Sorry I didn’t tell you before.
Easy-peasy, but as I turned toward him, I saw the slight smile on his face and the warmth in his eyes and thought about last night. Would I ruin everything by confessing now? Was it too late? The thoughts swirled through my brain. Logic said he deserved to know, especially before getting into anything akin to a relationship with me. Even if we were just friends with benefits, shouldn’t he be entitled to full disclosure?
“I guess there’s a lot I don’t know about you anymore. Sorry that I assumed.” His expression told me he wanted to learn everything about me, all the new details, all the things that had changed over the years, and my heart melted like butter in the microwave.
“Don’t apologize.” I was the one that should have been apologizing. I put my empty glass in the sink and walked back to the table to sit opposite him again. The milk seemed to ease the sour in my stomach, and I breathed an internal sigh of relief. That was one crisis averted.
I sat down and smiled. “I appreciate that you made me breakfast. It’s one of those sweet gestures I’ve missed.” My ex had never been so sweet. He hadn’t been a jerk either, until the end, but he’d never been attentive to small details.
“I’m glad you’re back.” With the empty fork in his hand pointed down at the plate and his attention on me, I remembered how it had felt before to be the center of his world. I’d loved that feeling; it was like a drug, addictive and thrilling, and that sensation had very nearly stopped me from walking away back then—almost.
“I’m glad to be back.” Being here with him was so natural, and last night seemed right. We fit perfectly together, like a lock and key. I didn’t quite know what to do next. Well, I knew what I needed to do, but as I opened my mouth, the words weren’t there. Instead, a little hiccup escaped me, and I held my breath for a second.
“Are you going to be sick?”
I gave my head a little shake. I wasn’t getting sick—I couldn’t get sick. That would raise questions, but even as I thought about the reasons I couldn’t get sick, bile raced up my throat.
The trembling returned, and my body slicked with an instant, sudden sweat that told me I couldn’t deny it any longer. I was going to throw up and nothing, not milk, not holding my breath, and not breathing would stop it. As sweat beaded across my brow, I stood.
He bolted out of his chair, his hands reaching for me. “Are you going to pass out?”
I couldn’t focus on what he was saying or an answer to his question. I bolted toward the bathroom at lightning speed, all fear of what he might think of me, how this might play out, or what would happen after this moment left my head as I raced to stand over the toilet.
My stomach coiled, then heaved so hard I couldn’t hold back. Fingers gently scraped my hair back from my hot, sticky neck, and Noah’s hand found my hip as my stomach lurched, and everything I’d eaten exited.
Miserable, trembling, and weak, his hand steadied me, and I could hear him speaking softly, even though I had no idea what he said.
As the pain in my stomach subsided, and nausea eased up, I waited to see if it was over.
“Well, damn, I guess I need to work on my cooking.” Despite the easy humor in his tone, I heard the worry there too.
I couldn’t hold back a sharp laugh because I had to find the humor in something.
“Are you pregnant?” His joking comment came right as my stomach tensed again. It would have been funny timing if throwing up didn’t make me feel so miserable. Still, he held on to me, offering comfort even as my insides purged.
Everything seemed to calm down again, and I took several deep breaths. The shaking ceased, and the sick, sweaty feeling passed.
I knew from experience that all it took was clearing my stomach, and I’d be fine until the next morning. Well, fine as far as throwing up. Whether or not I’d be fine when I faced Noah was a different story.
“I’m better.” I spit the last bit of sourness out before flushing away the evidence. “I need to brush my teeth.”
“Okay.” He backed off a few steps, but stood
in the bathroom doorway, arms crossed, watching me as I put toothpaste on the brush while carefully avoiding his stare.
My upset stomach was gone, and the trembling stopped. I felt fine, but sooner or later, he would ask me what the heck was going on. I mean, everybody knows what morning sickness is, right? How could he not know at this point? Unless he really thought it was his cooking, but I doubted he did. After all, he finished the omelet, and he was fine.
If he asked if I was pregnant again, I’d blurt out, “Yes.”
As the minty flavor of toothpaste washed away every trace of bitterness in my mouth, I wished I could just say it now. Why was it so hard? How come it seemed like something stopped me every time I tried to tell him?
With a sparkling clean mouth, I rinsed the brush, turned off the water, and spun to meet his gaze.
Instead of judgment and anger in his features, I saw affection. Warmth. Worry. Compassion. Before I could say anything, he opened his arms, and without thinking, I rushed into them. My heart pounded as I wondered if he knew or was simply being Noah; kind, sweet, thoughtful, loving Noah. He hugged me tightly, and I squeezed my eyes closed and enjoyed being held while he gently played with my hair and pressed his lips to my forehead.
Chapter Seventeen
Noah
I’d never dreaded Saturday dinner at Mom’s before.
“Are you two gonna get married?” Quinn swooped into the kitchen behind me.
“Shut up, Quinn.” I continued peeling potatoes while he moved toward the sink with a colander of salad greens.
“It’s a fair question.” Ethan’s voice came from behind. “We should know if you’re going to elope.”
“I vote for Dave to take his spot when he’s too whipped to come out with us after work.” Quinn made a whip-cracking noise, and I flipped him off before getting back to the task at hand.
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