Chapter 16 #2
His question causes me to blink, yanked from my inner turmoil. “What?” I ask, unsure if I heard him properly.
“Let me know when, and I’ll make sure I’m free,” he says, lifting my feet so they rest on his thighs. When he starts to push his fingers into the bottom of my right foot, I stifle a moan.
“Wh— You’re?—”
“I like you,” he starts, staring at me as he continues to massage my foot, much to my delight. “And because I like you, I want to make your life as easy as possible. Maybe someday, I’ll be a part of this easier life.”
I’m quiet as I watch him continue, too nervous to speak.
Nervous I could fuck this up. Nervous to lean on him in a real way and find he isn’t as sturdy as he seems.
“You’re quiet.”
“I’m thinking,” I say, casting my eyes toward the ceiling for the millionth time as I exhale. I can’t look at him. I can’t watch him as he entangles himself in this situation.
“I gathered that. Do you want to share?”
I take the time to think about whether I want to express myself. Maybe it’s fear, but I find myself wanting to keep my uncertainty close to my chest, to not fully give him the tools to hurt me.
“Is it okay if I don’t?” I finally ask, still unable to look at him.
“Will you be okay if you don’t?” It seems like an easy question, but it isn’t at all.
I pause, tilting my head as I take the time to think again.
And then I free the reins of fear and decide to let him in. He’s here. No one else is lining up to talk to me about my fears.
“You scare me,” I answer as softly as I can, not wanting to put force into the declaration. “This isn’t a typical situation.”
“I get that,” he says with a nod, still massaging. “You’re about to have a baby, and we only just started. That’s huge.”
“It is.”
“But the more time I spend with you, the more I want to spend with you. The more I’m around you, the less I want to be anywhere else.
” His words sound simple, but I know better.
One day, there’ll be a baby here, screaming and crying and shitting and waking us up.
Babies aren’t sexy. They aren’t built for the honeymoon stage, which is where we’re rooted right now.
It’s all sex and fun, and while I’m enjoying myself, it isn’t sustainable with a baby on the horizon.
“It isn’t that easy,” I remind him. I’d rather acknowledge it now than once he’s covered in baby puke.
Hell, he was covered in mine, and look at him now. But still…
“I’m of the understanding that nothing worth it will be.” He shrugs, offering me a small smile. He isn’t brushing off my concerns, isn’t trying to make me think everything is going to be perfect. Still, the idea of having someone to hold to keep from drowning is far too tempting to push him away.
As long as he doesn’t drown in the process.
I shake my head as I look at him. He’s sunshine, a slice of happiness in my life.
“I think you’re far too smooth for me.”
“I can get a little rough.” He smirks, setting my foot down before he crawls up my body, stopping just before his lips meet mine. “Want me to show you?”
“Yes, please,” I say with a grin that quickly morphs into a gasp when he tugs my sweatpants down, his hand cupping me as his thumb strokes my clit.
He slides down, pulling my pants with him until one of feet is free. He grins up at me, so perfectly aligned that I can feel the breath leave his body as he utters the next words.
“It’s my turn to eat.”
I never had the opportunity to see love up close to know what it looked like.
One could even say the experience has evaded me.
One being me, because if you ask Pepper, it’s all my fault.
I’m the one repelling it like I’m a walking curse, choosing work over any real commitment.
The only commitment I’ve truly had was the day I signed the lease for my restaurant. Even then, I paused before doing so.
But I’ve always found love in other things, less fickle than the women I’ve encountered. The ones I’m romantically interested in, anyway.
I find love in food, in feeding and helping people, in smiling at strangers walking down the street, and in fiercely protecting my friends.
But lately, I think I may’ve found it with someone who was a stranger just a few weeks ago. In her every curve, her smile being my favorite one. In the promise of a future with her, in her constant surprise at my presence.
I look forward to the day she no longer looks surprised to see me, instead knowing I’m never leaving. I want her to walk, eyes forward, knowing I’m right beside her.
This is fucking terrifying. But instead of letting it push me away from her the way it would a lesser man, I fully open myself up to the emotion, to learning to be vulnerable and not letting the potential crash landing deter me.
As I watch her sleep, I wonder why she didn’t call me to meet her at the emergency room. I try not to let it bother me, but it does.
I’ve started having dreams of it, including a child in my future plans, wondering what role I’ll fill and if we’re going to ever sit down and talk about it. But the fear of scaring her away has me hesitating to initiate that conversation.
She feels like mine. They both do, though each in different ways.
I would’ve never known I missed out on moments of intimacy, being able to look across the room at someone and knowing exactly what they’re thinking.
A beautiful connection sprinkled with a ravenous lust. I fucking love it here.
Her pregnant belly pokes out just a little between the bottom of her shirt and the top of her pajama pants, and I settle my palms on it as gently as possible so I don’t wake her.
It’s grown since I met her, but I don’t dare tell her, worried she’d take the compliment of how beautifully she’s flourishing as an insult.
Warmth, life, blinding possibility, all under my hands. I feel the firmness there, wondering if the baby will know me. Via osmosis? Perhaps my voice?
I make a mental note to ask if I can speak to her stomach. I have no idea what I would even say, but I’m happy to try.
I’ve always wanted children, always wanted to have a family, to create memories to fill the holes in my own childhood.
I genuinely adore this woman, in spite of the way she only lets me in inch by inch. I remind myself she’s pregnant, and she’s used to being on her own. I’ll have to earn a permanent position in her life.
I don’t want to scare her, feeling privileged enough to have the access to her I do. Still, I don’t plan on ever leaving this baby’s life. Whether we’re in a romantic relationship or not, I hope that’s something she and I can agree on.
I’m falling so deeply for this woman, I don’t ever want her to be alone. If I’m being honest, I’m falling in love with the idea of becoming a father, too.
Was it scary as hell initially? Of course. I don’t take this role lightly, but it’s an honor I hope to have for my whole life.
Meeting her family cements the notion that I’ll be around, whether it’s due to her embarrassment or not. I’ll take a win wherever I can get it.
She sighs, turning to face me, her leg hitching over mine. Her stomach now presses into me slightly, and I smile, reaching down to rub her thigh before bringing my palms to her ass. I fight the urge to grip it, loving how plump it is.
A surge of desire courses through me as I remember the multiple orgasms I gave her, the way I can still taste her on my tongue. But after today’s scare, I couldn’t bring myself to have sex with her, no matter how she pushed for it.
Instead, I tucked her in and finished cleaning the kitchen. Once that was done, I cleaned the rest of the apartment, tackling the bathroom so she doesn’t have to inhale the fumes from the chemicals.
Damn.
So this is love?