Chapter 27
Charley
“Oh my god, this is so good,” I groan as I shovel another bite of pasta into my mouth. My stomach is going to hate me later, but I don’t care. When I notice Graham watching me, I ask, “Do you want to try some?”
He shakes his head, breathing out a small chuckle. “No, that’s okay.”
After we checked out at the baby store, Graham took us to a restaurant nearby, one he’s been wanting to try for a while now, and I can see why.
“How’s yours?” I ask.
“Mine’s really good too,” he offers. “Want a bite?”
Graham ordered baked ziti, and it smells out of this world, but I shake my head, my nose wrinkling. “No thanks. Red sauce and I don't get along right now.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Graham’s mouth turns downward into a frown. “That sucks.”
Pregnancy heartburn is no freaking joke.
I’ve never had issues with this before, and now it’s practically a daily thing.
I’ll eat or drink something I’ve had a million times before, and it’ll hit me, but after my captain brought spaghetti for everyone last week, and I spent the rest of the night with my chest and throat on fire, I put two and two together that red sauce, especially, doesn’t sit well with me.
I’m living off Tums for the foreseeable.
“Yeah, it really does.” I snort, before taking a sip from the frozen pineapple coconut mockarita Graham ordered for me. “Wow, this is incredible.”
He beams, looking across the table at me. “I knew you’d love that.”
Remembering something I saw earlier, I grab my phone and unlock it. “You know what’s funny? I’m almost positive my fruit or veggie baby milestone next week is a coconut.”
“It’s this week,” Graham says casually.
My eyes dart up to his face, a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. “No, it’s next week.”
“You’re thirty-one weeks,” he adds matter-of-factly.
I tilt my head to the side, confusion and something else entirely swirling around in my mind. “Not for a few more days, but how do you know all of this?”
He’s been very involved in this pregnancy, but I didn’t realize he was keeping track of how far along I was by week. I don’t know why, but that makes my stomach flutter.
“I have my ways.”
“Do you know what the food for thirty weeks is?” I ask.
“Zucchini.”
“You made zucchini bread earlier this week,” I murmur, almost to myself.
“I did,” he offers, the corner of his mouth twitching.
“Wait a damn minute.” I feel like one of those characters in a cartoon with a lightbulb going off above my head.
Bringing my attention to my phone again, I scroll back through the weeks, my heart pounding harder as things come together like pieces of a puzzle.
Lifting my gaze, I’m met with soft green eyes already watching me, like he’s waiting to see if I’ll figure it out.
As I hold his gaze for a minute, my mouth dries, and it’s like the ability to speak has evaded me.
“Graham…” I finally manage to croak out.
“Have you been doing what I think you’re doing? ”
Flashing me a grin that makes my stomach dip, he says, “I don’t know, Sunny. What do you think I’m doing?”
Without even saying it, I know I’m right.
Tears prick the backs of my eyes and the tip of my nose stings.
“You’ve been incorporating the milestones into the food you’ve been making, haven’t you?
” I don’t give him a chance to answer before the words are tumbling out of my mouth again.
“That’s why you ordered this drink for me.
It’s why you made the zucchini bread. All those off-the-wall meals you’ve cooked…
That dish with the plums, grapefruit chicken, the eggplant parmesan you made a couple weeks ago…
You made those specifically because of the pregnancy, haven’t you? ”
Graham’s cheeks are a deep shade of pink, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “You’re right, I have.”
My throat is so thick with emotion, I can barely breathe. “But why… Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
He shrugs, his eyes nearly as misty as mine. “I thought it would be more fun letting you figure it out on your own.”
I don’t know why this realization is hitting me as hard as it is.
Graham’s a chef; it shouldn’t surprise me that he’d figure out a way to incorporate his interests with the pregnancy.
But it feels like so much more than that.
He not only wanted to track my pregnancy milestones and always know where our baby is at developmentally, but he also took the time to find recipes that specifically use the certain food of that week to make for me.
That is, quite literally, the most thoughtful thing anybody has ever done for me.
And it’s gone on for months without him getting any recognition for it.
“Graham…” My voice cracks, and I bite down on my bottom lip to keep it from quivering.
“Mama sad,” Ellie Mae says softly.
Glancing over at her, I shake my head. “No, I’m not—”
The words die on my tongue as what she actually said hits me.
Mama.
She called me Mama.
My gaze darts over to Graham, wanting to see if he caught that too, and based on the way he’s looking at me, with his eyes glassy and his lips parted, I know he did.
Both of us seem to be at a loss for words, but as a tear spills over and rolls down my cheek, I manage to look back at Ellie Mae and smile.
“I’m not sad, sweet girl,” I murmur. “These are happy tears. Promise.”
Her smile is wide, and my heart skips a beat.
We all get back to eating, with nothing more said about what Graham’s been doing or what Ellie Mae said. Not because I don’t want to talk about it, but because I’m so overwhelmed with emotion, I don’t think I could say anything even if I tried.
Ellie Mae called me mama.
How is it possible that she and her dad have both managed to make my heart explode all at the same time?
There’s also a small part of me that’s worried about what Graham thinks about what she said.
It’s not a secret that Ellie Mae and I have gotten closer over the past several months, and I help Graham out a lot when it comes to her, but we’ve never explicitly talked about it.
Is it weird for him?
Does it bring up old feelings for her actual mom, or bring up the hurt from her death?
Or does it make him feel the way I do?
He didn’t look bothered, but I can’t really know until I talk to him.
She called me mama… And it feels really, really good.
Coming out of the bathroom after my shower, I toss the towel into the hamper in the laundry room before padding out to the living room in search of Graham.
He was on the phone with his dad, trying to talk him through how to find something on his computer when I left.
When I don’t spot him on the couch, I turn into the kitchen, a smile spreading on my face when I see what he’s doing.
“It’s like you can read my mind,” I drawl, taking a seat at the table. Lately, the bar stools have been a no-go for me. They’re not comfortable anymore, since they have no back for me to relax into.
“Maybe I can.” He smirks as he walks over and sets one of the sundaes he made in front of me before dropping into the seat next to mine.
After he tops both of them off with whipped cream, he sets the can on the table before giving me a quick once-over.
“I fucking love when you wear my clothes, Sunny,” he groans. “They look way sexier on you.”
Chuckling, I say, “They’re comfortable.”
The larger I get, the less cozy I feel in my pajamas that mostly consist of tight shorts and tiny crop tops.
While they’re fine sometimes, I’ve noticed I much prefer something baggier and less constricting.
Not only that, but Graham’s shirts smell like him, obviously, and I can’t get enough of his scent.
We eat our ice cream in silence for a while, but my mind is still racing from earlier at the restaurant. “Sooo…” I start, causing Graham to immediately breathe out a laugh.
“Ready to talk about it?” he asks, a light airiness to his tone that makes my insides warm and fuzzy.
“Graham, she called me mama.” I barely get the words out before my vision blurs.
“She sure did,” he drawls, watching me with soft eyes and a smile that would make me weak in the knees if I wasn’t already sitting. “How does that make you feel?”
“I didn’t know she saw me like that,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “Is it weird for you?”
“Me?” His brows cinch. “Why would it be weird for me?”
“Because she’s your daughter and already has a mom.”
Graham clears his throat, then slips his warm, calloused hand into mine.
“My mom is such an important part of my life; she always has been. Her love and support growing up made me the man I am today, and I couldn’t imagine growing up without her.
Then when my parents split up and my dad met my stepmom, I felt that love and support all over again, just…
differently. Sure, she’ll never replace my mom or the bond we share, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t love her, and it didn’t mean she couldn’t be my mom too. ”
His voice cracks, and he pauses for a moment before continuing.
“Ellie Mae was so young when her mom died. Hell, she’s still so young, but deep in her heart, I’m sure she will always feel connected to Megan, and as she gets older, she’ll probably ask about her more, but that doesn’t mean she can’t love you too.
It doesn’t mean you’re any less her family.
Because that’s what you’ve become, Sunny…
to both of us. So, no, it’s not weird to me.
But I would understand if it’s weird for you. I know we’ve never talked about this—”
“It’s not,” I cut him off. “It’s not weird at all.
It’s not something I really gave much thought to, to be honest, but hearing that…
I don’t know, it felt really good. I love her, Graham, and—” My breath shakes as I inhale deeply.
And I love you too. I’m not ready to admit that part out loud. “Thank you for letting me love her.”