by Street, K.
I stood and quietly shifted the coffee table back a few inches to give myself a little more room. I bent, carefully scooping Molly into my arms. She snuggled into my chest. I breathed in the scent of her shampoo and body wash. She smelled like lavender and mint.
With slow, careful steps, I headed up the stairs to the next level. The first bedroom I came to was hers. I could tell from the stack of baby books on the nightstand. I gently laid her down on the bed and covered her with the other half of the blanket.
On the way out the door, I grabbed the copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting off her bedside table and took it into the living room. I kicked off my shoes and then turned the television off. I stretched out on the couch and began to read.
Fourteen
Molly
I stretched my limbs, yawning as my body unfurled on my soft mattress. I felt more rested than I had in days, and for a second, I wondered if it had anything to do with the sense of relief I felt now that Easton finally knew about the baby.
Our baby.
We needed to have a conversation. I needed a plan. The logistics of us living two hours apart wasn’t going to work once the baby was born. All of it made my head spin. Part of me felt as though I was getting ahead of myself while the other half of me knew this time would pass too quickly.
The baby kicked, reminding me that I needed to use the bathroom. After I took care of business, I went in search of Easton. When I rounded the corner to the landing, I caught sight of him lying on the couch, sound asleep with my copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting open on his chest, threatening to crumble the walls around my heart.
As much as he had pissed me off earlier and as much as he’d hurt me, seeing him like this made me vulnerable.
I walked down the stairs, stopping near the sofa, contently watching the rise and fall of his chest. For a moment, I let my mind wander. I considered all the what-ifs I always refused to let myself dwell on.
What if I hadn’t grown up in foster care?
What if I’d had parents who loved me instead of the ones who didn’t want me?
What if I wasn’t so screwed up?
What if Easton knew the truth?
What if we had another chance?
I shook myself from my thoughts and turned to go into the kitchen when a deep, raspy voice halted my steps.
“Feeling better?”
I twisted back around to face Easton. “Yes. How about you?”
He lifted the book from his chest and sat up. “I am. I didn’t realize how tired I was.” He placed the book on the table in front of the couch and then looked up at me. “We should talk.”
I lowered myself onto the opposite end of the sofa. The conversation had to happen at some point.
“When did you find out?” he asked.
I didn’t need him to specify. “About a month before I came to see you.”
“A month?” He kept his tone even, though it seemed to take some effort.
“The very last thing you said was that you never wanted to see me again. I didn’t know what to do or what I wanted to do. I was in shock or denial … whatever you want to call it.”
“You were on the pill.” There wasn’t any hint of accusation in his tone.
“After I moved …” I trailed off. Just because I was the one who’d left him didn’t mean I wasn’t devastated, but he didn’t know that. “Things were hectic. Finding a gynecologist wasn’t really a priority. When my pill lapsed, I didn’t give it much thought. I wasn’t sleeping with anyone, so it just didn’t seem important.”
“I didn’t even think about using a condom.”
“We were both drunk.”
“Still, we should have been more careful.”
His words bit into me, putting me on the defensive.
“If you don’t want to be involved, just say so. The last thing this baby needs is a parent who regrets its existence. I know what that’s like.” As soon as the words slipped past my lips, I wanted to snatch them from the air.
“Did I say I regretted it?”
I stared at the floor instead of answering him.
“What do you mean, you know what it’s like?” he pressed.
“Nothing.”
“Clearly, it’s not nothing.”
“Just drop it, okay?”
Easton leaned back on the couch, resting his head on the back of it. “When are you due?”
“November 19.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes before I gathered the courage to ask, “Are you seeing anyone?” My tone was quiet, like I didn’t really want to know the truth. I rushed to continue, “Not that it matters.” That’s a lie. It matters. “I just meant that … you know … our situation might make it weird.”
He sat forward, forearms on his knees, hard set to his jaw. “If you’re asking if I’m in a relationship, the answer is no, but we both know that isn’t what you’re really asking.” A coldness settled into his blue eyes. “You ruined me. Twice. So, yeah, I’ve fucked other women.”
I visibly winced at his crude comment.
“And you don’t get to be pissed about it. I’m not going to sit here and lie to you to spare your feelings.”
He’s right. I do not get to be pissed.
This is my fault.
Not his.
“I never meant …” I trailed off.
“Don’t. Don’t you dare sit there and spew that bullshit.” His tone took on a hard edge. “Telling someone you don’t love them, that you don’t want them, those words are intentional. You meant every one of them. You don’t get to pretend you didn’t.”
Easton believed my lies so easily, and it left me wondering if he ever really knew me at all.
“What about you?” he asked.
“What about me?”
“Are you seeing anyone?”
I gaped at him as though he had said the most ludicrous thing I’d ever heard. Because it was. “In case you didn’t notice”—I bent my wrist and waved my index finger up and down over my midsection—“this doesn’t exactly scream I’m available.”
Then again, some men do have strange kinks.
“Let me rephrase. Have you fucked anyone?”
“No.”
The look on his face told me I had surprised him.
“There hasn’t been anyone since you. I didn’t leave because I wanted someone else.”
“Why did you leave, then?” Easton shifted, angling his body toward me.
I should tell him the truth. Lay all the ugliness I had survived out there between us. If I did, he would pity me. I didn’t want that. I wouldn’t be able to handle it. I didn’t want to see the hurt I would find in his eyes when he realized I had lied to him. I just couldn’t bring myself to slice open those wounds, leaving myself exposed. Nobody knew all the heinous details. Not even Paige. She knew a lot but not everything. There were some secrets I would take to the grave.
The whole truth wouldn’t just hurt me. It would hurt him, and I had done enough of that already.
“Rehashing the past isn’t going to do anyone a bit of good.”
“Ignoring it is a better solution?”
The baby picked that moment to kick the bejesus out of me.
Saved by the proverbial bell.
“Whoa.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine.” I ran my flattened palm over my belly. “He kicked me.”
His eyes widened. “It’s a boy?”
The excitement in his voice brought a smile to my face.
I shook my head. “I’m not sure. I never found out. When I had the appointment …” I thought back to that day. “As mad and hurt as I was, it didn’t seem right to find out without you, so I had the tech write the gender down on a piece of paper and put it in an envelope. I gave it to Paige for safekeeping.”
“Wow. I don’t know what to say. Also … you hate surprises.”
I laughed. “Everybody keeps saying that. While it’s true, I figure I’d
better get used to them.”
“Do you mind?” Easton pointed to my stomach. “Can I?”
“Of course.”
He moved closer, erasing not only the distance between us, but also the heaviness of our conversation.
“Here,” I said, reaching for his hand and placing it on my bump and slightly pressing down. “It might take a minute.”
We sat quietly as several long seconds ticked by before it happened again.
It was impossible not to be affected by the awe that morphed Easton’s features. My heart squeezed as I took in his completely enamored expression.
“That’s amazing.”
I shifted positions, moving his hand to the other side of my tummy. We were closer now. Breathing the same air. His spicy, clean scent wrapped around me like a blanket. Sharing this moment made it easy to forget that we weren’t a couple anymore. When this baby came … we wouldn’t be a family. We would be two people who happened to have a child together. Nothing more.
A sense of overwhelming sadness I didn’t have a right to feel fell over me.
You idiot.
Tell him you love him.
Tell him the truth.
If only it were that easy.
“I think the acrobatics are over for now.” I released Easton’s hand. I needed to put some space between us.
Easton’s palm lingered on my bump. His stormy blue irises met my green ones. The air between us crackled. We were close. So close that if either one of us leaned the slightest bit, our lips would touch.
Fifteen
Easton
“Thank you,” I said, my voice thick and full of emotion.
I wanted to ignore the past. Forget everything that had happened. I wanted to live, suspended in this moment for just a little while.
Molly cleared her throat. “I’m hungry. Are you hungry? What do you feel like eating? I can make something. Or I can order takeout.”
Just like that, the spell was broken. I dropped my hand and moved down the sofa, putting distance between us.
“I could eat. You don’t have to cook. I can cook, or we can order takeout? Are you craving anything?”
“Other than loaded baked potatoes?” She laughed. “Are you okay with barbeque? Ribs sound good right now. I’ve been really sick most of the pregnancy, and it hasn’t been until recently that I can keep things down.”
Hearing her admit that made me feel like an even bigger ass. For the tenth time in less than twenty-four hours, I wished I had listened to her when she came to Maplewood Falls all those months ago. Not that I could have done a damn thing to stave off her morning sickness.
If she wanted ribs, then she’d have ribs.
“That works for me. Do you want to go out? I can have dinner delivered or I can go pick it up.”
She looked thoughtful. “We should probably eat in. I need to do laundry for work tomorrow anyway.”
Work?
What the hell?
Her words set my jaw on edge.
“You can’t go to work tomorrow.”
“Excuse me?” She pinned me with a glare.
“You just got out of the hospital. You’re supposed to take it easy for a few days.”
“I’m fine. The baby is fine. I just passed out. It’s not that big of a deal.”
I stood and paced her living room. “You’re pregnant. It is a big deal.”
“Easton,” she spoke through gritted teeth. “I have bills to pay. Kids are expensive. Having a baby is expensive. My insurance deductible is expensive. I have one week of vacation time, which I’ll be using toward my maternity leave. I’m going to work tomorrow because I can’t afford not to.”
“Yes, you can.” I stopped pacing to look at her. “Move in with me. Come back to CDD. Problem solved.”
“Is that what this is?” She pointed at her stomach. “Is that what I am? A problem you need to solve?”
“What?” My brows dipped. “No.”
It made sense for her to move back to Maplewood Falls. My family was there. She would have a support system. I could make sure she was okay.
She walked into the kitchen, and I followed behind her. I watched as she opened a cabinet and grabbed a glass before slamming it shut.
“We aren’t a couple anymore.”
“That wasn’t my choice,” I reminded her.
The glass in her hand clanked loudly against the counter when she set it down with more force than necessary. She went over to the refrigerator, pulling out a pitcher of water that had lemons and limes floating around inside. After she filled her glass and replaced the pitcher, she took a long drink, her back to me.
She didn’t turn around when she said, “I have a life here. I can’t just up and leave.”
“Really?” I released a humorless laugh. “Did those words just actually leave your mouth?”
Leaving was Molly’s MO.
I scrubbed a hand over my face. I needed space, and I needed it now. “I’m going to pick up dinner. I’ll be back in a bit.”
I walked out the door and headed to my truck. My life had been flipped upside down in less than twenty-four hours.
There was only one thing I knew for certain. Once the baby was born, there was no way in hell Molly and I would be living in different cities, and I had no intentions of moving to Atlanta.
Sixteen
Molly
“Move in with me. Come back to CDD. Problem solved.”
Easton’s demand cycled through my brain.
Move in with him? Work for him?
He’d spat it out like it was the most logical thing in the world, but it wasn’t that simple. I’d walked away from him twice. I wasn’t strong enough to do it a third time. Depending on him would only make me vulnerable. I couldn’t rely on him.
What happens when he decides he doesn’t want me anymore?
Where will I be then?
Screwed—that’s where.
I hated that Paige was an ocean away. I hated needing anyone, but I needed her.
I went into the living room and rifled through the bag I’d had at the hospital for my phone. I ignored the twenty-three percent next to my battery and opened up my text messages. I hadn’t bothered to check my phone earlier, so it wasn’t a surprise to see several messages from Paige.
Paige: Are you mad?
Paige: Don’t be mad.
Paige: I couldn’t just leave you without anyone to look out for you.
Paige: My flight to London is just over 8 hours. Ugh. I’ll text you when I land.
Paige: You love me, Molls. You have to forgive me.
I couldn’t help but smile when I read her text messages. I wasn’t mad … at least, not anymore. Despite Easton’s reaction at the hospital and everything that followed, I was relieved he knew the truth. After I read Paige’s texts, I couldn’t drop the news of what Easton had said. I needed to talk to her. To hear her voice on the other end of the line, and with her flying across an ocean, that wasn’t going to happen.
Me: Forgiving you would require an apology.
Me: But I do love you.
I plugged my phone in to charge and started the laundry.
* * *
The next morning, after I got dressed, I went into the kitchen to grab breakfast before work. I set my purse on one of the stools at the bar, letting my gaze drift to a shirtless Easton. Unease simmered between us. Whatever space not filled with leftover friction from last night was taken up by a different kind of tension.
“Good morning.” His voice, low and gravelly, glided over my skin.
He had on a pair of gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips. I was pretty sure they were the same ones he’d had on the day he slammed the door in my face.
The night of our alcohol-fueled sexcapade, I had been too lust-drunk and consumed with need to fully appreciate everything that was Easton James Chadwick. My pregnancy hormones fired on all cylinders as I took in the view.
His body looked as though it had been sculpted by a master
potter.
There was a time I wouldn’t have thought twice about running my fingers through his thick, sleep-mussed hair. Or gliding my palms over his broad shoulders. I would have kissed the curve of his pecs and then dropped to my knees, so I could trace the tip of my tongue over the outline of his abs before I dipped my mouth lower …
Every inch of his frame, the ones on display and those I recalled from memory, were sexy as sin. He was the whole package, but it was his arms that were my weakness. Because damn. Those arms. Biceps so well defined that he didn’t need to flex at all.
“Molls?”
Sinewy forearms roped with thick veins hidden by the perfect smattering of hair. I pictured how those forearms looked when he rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt.
“Molly.”
Somewhere in the part of my brain not occupied by sexy thoughts of Easton, I registered the sound of my name.
Heat rushed to my cheeks. I didn’t need to look in a mirror to know my face was fire-engine red.
“Y-yes?” I ripped my eyes from his bare torso and cleared my throat.
“I said, good morning.”
“Oh. Um, good morning.”
“You’re sure you’re okay to go to work? You’re flushed.” His lips quirked into a smirk.
Ugh. Freaking hormones.
“Yes, I’m fine,” I said and wished for a hole to open beneath my feet and swallow me.
“Since you insist on going to work, at least let me drive you.”
“No!” I practically shrieked. The last thing I needed was to be trapped in a confined space with Easton. “No. It’s okay. I need my car to run errands on my lunch break.” At least my lie sounded convincing. “Thanks for the offer though.”
“Molly.”
“Easton.”
I ambled over to the cabinet above the coffeepot and reached for a to-go mug. I placed it under the spout and hit the button on the Keurig to dispense hot water.
