Chapter 14 #2
Questions flood my mind and make me all the more excited.
Will they have my black hair, or their daddy’s light brown?
My blue eyes or his dark green? Will they look like their sister, despite not sharing a mom?
What will it feel like holding them in my arms?
Will being a mother come naturally to me?
My heart is in my throat as I envision what my life is going to look like six months from now—what our life is going to look like.
Me nursing this baby, watching Ellie Mae run around with the dog while Graham sits next to me or plays with her.
I think about what it’s going to be like watching Graham care for this baby, and how it’s going to feel watching Ellie Mae be a big sister.
A family, that’s what we’re going to be.
Even if it won’t look exactly like I had hoped it would, that realization brings up one of the loudest questions of them all… How am I supposed to make it through this pregnancy, and then witness Graham loving on our baby, without falling hopelessly in love with him all over again?
It’s almost like I’m setting myself up for failure—or heartbreak.
Getting over him in high school, and then again in college, was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.
Coming to terms with the fact that we’d never be what I wanted us to be sucked, and then watching him get married to somebody else was painful.
I can’t go through that again—I don’t want to—not with what’s at stake now.
My life is about to be flipped upside down, and I can’t have Graham in the back of my mind at every turn.
I can’t wonder what he feels when he looks at me.
I can’t hope that he’ll fall in love with me.
And I can’t pretend feelings are there when they aren’t.
Having drunk sex one time doesn’t mean he cares about me like that, just like how spending time together and fooling around in high school doesn’t mean he loved me.
I don’t know how, but I have to keep myself in line.
I need to keep it friendly. For our baby, for Ellie Mae, but also for my sanity.
Sure, Graham may be attracted to me, and yeah, of course, he cares about me, but not in the way I’ve always dreamed he would.
I came to terms years ago that we couldn’t be together, and it’s about damn time I remind myself of that, because hoping for anything more is only going to end with me getting hurt, and I don’t have time to be brokenhearted.
This is about our baby. It’s about raising them together, as a family.
Nothing more.
When the appointment is over, Dr. Mitchell gives us a little ultrasound picture to keep, and I stare at it the whole car ride home, emotion pricking the back of my eyes.
Once we get home, I plan to make a beeline to my room and nap before I have to get some studying done, but I barely make it halfway down the hall before Graham’s voice stops me.
“I’m making some food,” he calls out. “You hungry?”
As if on cue, my stomach rumbles, loud enough that Graham can probably hear it at the end of the hall. “I could eat,” I say. “What’re you making?”
“What do you want?”
I follow him into the kitchen. Sitting on one of the bar stools, I glance at the boxes on top of the fridge. “Can I have some Fruit Loops?”
“You want…cereal?” he asks. “Seriously?”
“Uh, yeah.” Graham’s putting away the stuff he bought at the farmers’ market, and I spot the purple honey. “Oh, and what about that?”
Graham follows my line of sight before bringing his gaze back to me, a puzzled expression wrinkling his brow. “You want the honey…in your cereal?”
“What? No!” Laughter bubbles past my lips. “I want to try some. What do you normally eat it with?”
Chuckling to himself, Graham says, “It’s good drizzled in oatmeal or yogurt, or even on toast. I’ll eat a spoonful of it by itself sometimes.”
“Oh, no, I won’t be doing that.” My face twists up. “I’ll try it on a piece of peanut butter toast, I guess.”
Strolling over to the pantry, Graham opens it and grabs the bread and peanut butter.
I can’t help but watch him as he places two slices in the toaster, then removes a bowl from the cabinet.
He’s wearing a backwards hat on his head, a pair of jeans that fit like they were made for him, and a black Carhartt t-shirt that shows off his tattoos, and as I take in the various ink decorating his arms, another tattoo comes to mind…
One I’ve purposely chosen to not think about—or at least tried not to—since seeing it with my own eyes a few months ago.
The one on his ribs that I refuse to believe he got because of me.
I want to ask him about it, but right now doesn’t seem like the appropriate time. Not when he’s fixing me a snack and the tattoo isn’t even visible. He probably doesn’t even know I saw it. Maybe we should keep it that way.
But god, he looks good right now. Well, Graham always looks good, but right now especially. What is it about a man making you food that’s so damn sexy?
It’s toast and cereal, my goodness, Charley. Pull yourself together.
“When do you wanna tell our folks?” he asks, and I practically have to wipe the drool from my chin as he lifts his gaze to meet mine across the counter.
“Huh?” My cheeks heat, like maybe he can sense I was just checking him out.
“The baby,” he says. “When did you want to tell our parents the news?”
“Oh, uh…” I think about it for a moment.
Truth be told, it’s not something I’ve thought about much.
I’ve been so focused on learning to live with Graham that every other concern or item on my to-do list has kind of taken a back burner.
“We could tell them whenever,” I say. “We’re officially past the first trimester, and we’ve heard the heartbeat, so any time we want.
” I pause, then add, “But I definitely want to tell your parents first.”
Graham snorts. “Why?”
A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth as I shrug. “I don’t know… I’ve always felt closer to your parents than mine, and yours will one hundred percent be ecstatic.”
His brows pinch. “You don’t think yours will be excited?”
“I don’t know,” I murmur. “I’m sure they will be, but I’m also sure my mother will lecture me about…something before the excitement comes. The idea of telling your parents just feels less daunting.”
Graham nods, his expression one I can’t place. “Wanna tell mine this weekend?” he asks. “Everyone will be together at Gemma’s for that barbecue.”
My stomach flutters at the thought, but it’s definitely more of a butterfly flutter and not a dreadful flutter. “Okay, let’s do it,” I blurt out, a smile spreading across my face.
Flashing me a grin that makes my thighs clench, Graham slides the plate of toast and a bowl of cereal across the counter as he says, “Alright, cool. Then we can tell your folks whenever you’re ready.”
I take a small bite of the toast, my taste buds practically bursting as I taste the honey mixed with the peanut butter. “You weren’t lying,” I mutter before taking another bite. “This is incredible.”
“Told you,” he murmurs, pride radiating off of him.
“Catch me eating all of this by myself,” I tease. “You’re gonna wish you never introduced me to this.”
Breathing out a laugh, Graham squeezes some onto a spoon, and my body sets on fire as I watch him eat the honey off the utensil.
Eating honey shouldn’t be erotic, especially when he’s not doing anything close to sexual, but with the way my pussy tingles, you’d think he was licking it straight off my body.
Now that’s a nice visual…
Nope. Knock it off, Charley. This isn’t that.
It’s about the baby. Nothing more. I repeat the words I told myself at Dr. Mitchell’s office, but it doesn’t work.
I’m screwed.