Chapter 12
Meandering out of the kitchen, I stroll up to the front counter, but pause as soon as I step around the corner.
Charley’s checking in a guest, and I allow myself the opportunity to watch her in her element.
Despite working at the same inn, we rarely run into each other.
I’m back of the house, and she’s up front.
She’s got her long, inky-black hair tied up in a ponytail on the top of her head, but there’s a few strands falling around her face, probably from her wearing it up all day.
The sleeves on the white button-up she’s wearing are rolled halfway up her forearms, revealing her tattoos, and I picture what she’ll look like in a few months, when a baby bump has popped.
I can’t lie… The image makes my blood pump a little hotter, and it brings a small smile to my lips.
Once she finishes up and the guests walk off, I head over to the desk, coming to a stop in front of her. “You about ready to go?” I ask, pulling my phone out of my pocket and checking the time.
Charley nods. “Yeah, Debbie is running a couple minutes late, but she should be here any time now.”
My dad and I helped her move in her stuff yesterday, and since we both had a shift this morning, I insisted we carpool.
It makes the most sense, but you would’ve thought I asked her to go to mars, with how she looked at me when I suggested it.
I won’t lie; yesterday was pretty darn awkward, which I kind of expected.
It was my idea to have her move in, and it’s an idea I fully stand by, but I can admit that, given our history and how this all happened, it’s a little weird…
Us going from barely talking and being just friendly, to now being roommates while she carries our child.
It’s not ideal, and it’s not something I ever thought would happen, but I’m still happy she agreed to move in.
After Debbie shows up, Charley clocks out, then follows me out to my truck in the employee parking lot. Tossing her bag on the seat between us, she buckles her seatbelt, then flits her gaze over to me. “Phone,” she says plainly, holding out her hand.
My brows lift. “My phone?”
“Yes.” She nods. “We’re not listening to your music again, and I don’t feel like hooking my phone up to Bluetooth.”
I chuckle, but hand her the phone anyway. “And what’s wrong with my music?”
Charley’s narrow gaze is twinkling with humor as the corner of her mouth twitches. “Graham, we listened to divorced dad rock all day yesterday when you were helping me move and this morning on the way to work. No more.”
“Sorry?” I snort. “Divorced dad rock?”
She rolls her eyes as her lips curve into a small smile. “Hinder, Daughtry, Nickelback… Prime divorced dad rock.”
“Oh, so we’re hating on my music now?” I tease. “I’m hurt, Su—Charley. Hurt.”
Thankfully ignoring my near nickname slip-up, Charley laughs as she scrolls through Spotify.
“Not hating,” she clarifies. “In fact, I love all that music, but it’s just a bit more angst and grunge than I care for right now.
” As Good as Hell by Lizzo starts playing, she flashes me a smirk before singing along to the song.
I pull out of the parking lot, finding it hard to pay attention to the road, because all I want to do is shamelessly watch Charley.
The drive isn’t long by any means, but as I turn onto the gravel road that leads to my house just as another upbeat pop song comes to an end, I wish it was longer.
The Charley inside this truck is more carefree and playful than the Charley who moved in to my house yesterday, and I have a feeling that as soon as I park, she’ll revert back to uncharacteristically awkward.
When I first offered up my house, she expressed not wanting to be a burden, and I think that’s still heavy on her mind.
But hopefully, with time, she’ll get more comfortable around here, because the last thing she is to me is a burden.
Walking through the front door, I kick off my shoes while Charley does the same. The house is quiet, so Ellie Mae and my mom are probably in the backyard. Glancing over my shoulder at Charley, I nod toward that direction of the house. “I’m going outside,” I tell her. “You wanna come?”
She shakes her head and smiles. “Maybe in a bit, but I’m going to change into something less sweat inducing and wash my face. It’s been so dang oily lately.”
“Okay. There should be some washcloths under the sink.”
Breathing out a laugh, Charley says, “Yeah, you mentioned that yesterday when I took a shower.”
“Right.” I nod before we go our separate ways.
Just like I thought, I find my mom sitting on the steps while Ellie Mae’s trying to catch one of the chickens.
“Hey, Mom,” I murmur as I sit down beside her.
“Hi, honey.” She glances over at me. “How was work?”
Shrugging, I say, “It was alright. Nothing special. How was Ellie Mae today?”
“Wonderful, like she is every other day.” Her smile is bright, the love she has for my daughter radiating off her. Ellie Mae is the youngest of five grandchildren, and I couldn’t ask for a better set of grandparents for her. “Where’s Charley?”
“Inside changing,” I say. “She might be out soon, or maybe not.”
“I’m sure it’s just different for her,” my mom offers. “Going from living alone to living with a man and his toddler is probably a lot to take in. She just needs some time.”
I told my mom Charley needed to move in here due to her landlord raising her rent.
Not a total lie, but not the whole truth either.
Aside from my sisters, we haven’t told anybody that we’re having a baby.
I’m sure we will soon, but getting her moved in here and settled was top priority for me, and we haven’t really had time to talk about the pregnancy and our plan yet.
“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right,” I murmur.
My mom stays for another ten minutes or so, and when she leaves, I head inside to make a snack for Ellie Mae. She wanders down the hallway, and I assume she’s going to play with her toys, but when I finish up and go find her, it’s not her bedroom I find her in.
It’s the bathroom, with Charley.
My heart melts as I take them in. No longer in her work uniform, Charley’s wearing a pair of black shorts and a teal ribbed tank top.
A pink microfiber-looking headband sits on her head, all the make-up she wore today washed off her face.
Ellie Mae has somehow made it onto the counter, and she’s sitting crisscross beside the sink, staring at herself in the mirror as Charley pretends to apply lotion to her face.
“Pretty girls,” I say, shoving my hands in my pockets as I stand in the doorway.
Charley’s gaze meets mine in the reflection, and I don’t miss the way she bites back a smile. “She wanted to wash her face like me,” she explains. “Don’t worry, I didn’t use any real product.”
“Didn’t think you did,” I murmur softly before looking at Ellie Mae. “You all clean now, baby?”
She giggles and nods, rubbing her cheek with her little chubby hand.
“Come on,” I say, grabbing her off the counter. “Daddy made you a snack.” Glancing back at Charley, I add, “There’s more than enough for you if you’re hungry.”
“Thanks, but I’m okay. My stomach’s kind of upset, so I think I’m gonna pop a Zofran and lay down before I get some studying in.”
“Has the medicine been helping?” I ask.
Charley’s been pretty sick lately. She barely ate anything yesterday, and she told me she’s basically been living off saltine crackers and water. I talked her into calling her doctor yesterday afternoon to ask for something to help with that.
“Yes, thank gosh,” she says. “It’s been a godsend.”
“Good. Well, if you need anything, just holler.”
She smiles. “Thanks. I’ll be fine, though.”
Time. Like my mom said, she probably just needs time to relax around here.
Placing the casserole dish in the oven, I set the timer for fifty-five minutes before I shuffle over to the sink and get started on the dishes.
As I’m waiting for the water to heat, I lift my gaze to the other side of the counter, where Charley’s sitting, hair tossed into a messy bun on top of her head, laptop opened in front of her, and a pen in her hand as she scrawls something in the spiral notebook beside her.
She’s focused, and has been for the last half hour, but every so often, she’ll turn her head and give her attention to Ellie Mae, who’s snacking and babbling in the highchair next to her.
Charley must feel my eyes on her because, a moment later, she glances up and meets my gaze before looking down at the sink full of dishes I haven’t touched, despite the water still running.
“Dinner smells good,” she says, with a sweet smile that wrinkles the corners of her eyes.
She seems to be feeling better after her nap, which makes me happy.
“It’s just a spinach and tortellini casserole,” I offer, finally starting on the dishes. “It’ll be ready in a little less than an hour. Think you’ll be able to eat?”
“Oh, yeah.” She huffs a small chuckle. “The medicine made me feel so much better, and I feel like I could eat a horse.”
Laughing lightly, I nod. “Well, that’s good. I’m glad Dr. Mitchell was able to call that in. So, was your first prenatal appointment yesterday, then?” I ask, trying to sound nonchalant and not like I’m bummed she didn’t ask me to come.
“No, I just begged her to help me.” Charley giggles.
“I was desperate and didn’t want to wait until Friday, which is my first appointment.
” Then she adds, “I think I’m getting an ultrasound too, and I know you have to work Friday, but I wanted to see if you might like to come? You don’t have to if you’re busy.”
“I’ll be there,” I tell her, my heart kicking up speed when she smiles. “What time is it?”
“One o’clock.”
I nod. “Cool. I’ll just take the day off. Do you wanna maybe hit up the farmers’ market before we go? We usually go on Saturdays, but if we’re going to be out and about? Could be fun.”