Chapter 18
Griffin
I fucking missed her. I missed her smile, her tenacity, her body, her eyes on me. I missed her soft hands, her baking, her smell. Her sweetness the most.
As I walked into the bakery tonight after seeing the lights on, using the spare key she gave me weeks ago, I felt a little sheepish for being so absent.
I ran. I ran away. Trying to outrun the past that always lingers, not wanting to tarnish her beautiful life with my dirty one.
But on the way to my place from the airport tonight, I couldn’t help but drive down Main Street to check on her.
I sat outside in my car, debating with myself for over an hour.
Debating on whether to see her, knowing exactly where it would lead, or drive away, keeping her at arm’s length.
It was an easy choice in the end. I couldn’t stay away.
I heard the music the minute I opened the front door and followed it like a moth to a flame, helpless and already burning.
Walking through her sparkling shop front, I saw everything clean and ready for tomorrow. But when I walked through the kitchen door, I paused and watched.
She was dancing. And God, she’s beautiful.
Swaying with her bump. One of her long dresses showcases her curves that I like so much.
Pastries hot from the oven, smelling so good, I’m sure you could hear my stomach growl from hunger if the tunes weren’t so loud.
I haven’t eaten much since being away. I get tunnel vision, pushing everything from my mind and focusing on work.
I’ve done it for so long, it’s now second nature.
People, thoughts, feelings, emotions, hunger, pain.
It all dissipates under the thud of a hammer and a nail.
I watched her for less than a minute before I knew I had to kiss her. I had to have her in my arms, had to have her lips on mine, and I walked straight to her like a man on a mission. One half of my brain wondering what the hell I'm doing, the other knowing I’d follow her anywhere.
Now as my lips touch hers, I feel like I’m right where I belong. I feel like I’ve finally found the piece of me that’s been missing. I feel at peace.
Hiding myself in Colorado and Sundown Valley all week, I thought was for the best. I had the baby items from Mother Maven delivered straight to my place here and then tried to forget all about my sweet baker and her belly.
But I couldn’t. Every night, I’d lie awake, staring at the ceiling, wishing I was with her.
Wondering if she was sleeping, resting. Wondering if and when the baby was coming.
Every morning, I’d grab my phone to call her or text her, to check in.
But I’d force my hand away before I could.
I spent hours and hours poring over the baby app I downloaded.
Wanting to know as much as possible about the very topic I had no idea of.
But then she texted me. Then called me. Told me about her checkup, and my chest burned, knowing I wasn’t here with her when it's the only place I truly wanted to be.
When I got the mystery call last week, the voice I recognized immediately, it brought back so many emotions.
I thought I was free. Free of his hold on me.
But like the low-life scum of the earth he is, he still tries to pull me back under.
I didn’t want to tarnish Savannah. A beautiful woman growing a beautiful new life and starting fresh.
I’m a man with a dark past. I rarely show emotion.
I don’t do soft touches and sweet gestures.
So I did what I always do. I got on my jet and went to work.
But I couldn’t stay away. There's a connection.
A pull. A deep-seated need to protect, caress, have her.
Be with her. And right now, kissing her, my lips demanding, taking, my hands not just holding her, but pulling her close.
Fuck, I want this. Want her more than anything.
I growl onto her lips, feeling greedy as she kisses me back just as feverishly. She tastes as good as she feels. All soft, supple, feminine.
She moves her hands then. I feel her palms glide up my arms and cup my face, and they feel so nice. Like she’s holding me. Caring for me. Looking after me. I pull back a little, the two of us panting for air.
Her big round eyes blink up at me.
“Welcome home.” Two simple words. To her, probably no more than a simple greeting. But they hit me in my chest, burning through my skin like a brand, so hot I almost flinch.
“You're dancing? Are you okay to dance?” My voice is rough. I sound like an asshole. Like I’m berating her.
Hell, I am an asshole. I walked into her space, watched her, and then put my mouth on her.
Like I’m a fucking stalker. But my eyes narrow, looking at her.
Wondering if the dancing is good for her and the baby.
As much as I love to see it, I want her to be healthy.
“The baby still hasn’t dropped into position yet. Hudson said dancing may help. Plus, the spicy food.” Her cheeks go bright pink. I see them clearly since I haven’t let her go.
“You’re using the spices?” I can smell that she is. There’s a savory smell in here that I haven’t smelled before.
“Yes. Thank you. You didn’t have to go to so much trouble.” Her eyes search mine, and I remain steady.
“I wanted to make sure you have what you need.”
“Well, I do now…” Her voice is small, but her words are full of weight, and if I could, I’d wrap her up and never let her go.
“Wanna dance with me?” Her head tilts a little, and her lips quirk up at the sides.
I swallow hard. Dancing isn’t something I do, but she moves her hands from my cheeks and runs them back down my shoulders, pulling me in.
I take the hint and drop my hand from her jaw and wrap it around her waist, meeting the other at the small of her back.
A slower song comes on, and she starts to sway, her hips moving from side to side.
I don’t move. I can’t. My feet are rooted to the floor as I watch her in awe.
She has a little flour on her cheek, her hair up, her breasts looking fuller since I last saw her.
Her bump too. I can’t believe how much she’s changed in a week.
“I don’t dance.” I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack. I want to move. I want to give her what she wants. But it feels so foreign. So odd. So unnatural.
“Well, I'm not sure I'm technically dancing either… so just sway with me… You can do it.” Her smile widens, and that’s what has my feet moving. My eyes are glued to hers. The light’s hitting her just right, her soft body moving under my hands.
She runs her hands down my arms, stepping out from me and grabbing my hand to twirl around.
I ensure I keep her close, not wanting her to slip and fall.
“How does this help the baby?” Here in her arms, there’s nowhere for me to hide. I have a feeling she would see straight through it anyway. My feet shuffle like my shoes are made from lead. But I’m moving. I’m doing it.
“Well, Hudson said it could come any time, but it's not in position. Apparently, upright movement, hip swaying, and gravity all work together to open the pelvis, create more space, and gently guide the baby downward, ready for birth. And then I also made some curry and spicy pastries.”
“Mmmm. I can smell them.” My mouth waters. For her and her food.
“How long are you staying for?”
Forever. That’s what I feel like saying. I move my eyes from hers and look at her belly. If she could go into labor any day now, then I want to be close.
“I might stick around for a week or so,” I tell her and watch as her features soften.
“I’d like that,” she says quietly, and I tighten my grip on her, pulling her closer to me, her belly squished into my own as I bury my face in her hair and we sway.
If this is what Heaven feels like? Then I’m ready to die, because holding her and her holding me feels like a dream. One I don’t want to wake from. Yet like every night, it will no doubt turn into another nightmare.
Sweet kisses and soft dreams are not something a man like me gets in life. No matter how bad I want it.
"Actually… I feel like I might need a new mattress. Do you want to sleep over tonight and let me know what you think?" she murmurs against my chest, and I swear she’ll hear my heart explode.
I know what she’s really asking of course. Her mattress is fine.
"Thought it felt a little lumpy last time. Might be worth trying it again before you get a new one…" I offer, trying to tame the grin pulling at my lips.
And just like that, I'm staying. Sleeping by her side, right where I want to be.