Chapter 28 Maia #2
By the time we got into the car to drive home, I switched my phone back on to a ton of texts from friends and family.
Grace was annoyed we’d left the party before they’d arrived and insisted that we make it up to her, Dad, and Lockie.
Even though I was exhausted, I promised her we’d have dinner with them in the coming week.
Baird agreed amiably. It was refreshingly unlike Will who always hemmed and hawed and insisted he needed to check his calendar a thousand times before committing to spending time with my family.
I had a missed call and text from Beth. A text from Lily, one from January, and even one from Luke.
I really needed to apologize to Luke for bailing on his graduation party.
However, the fact that all their texts were filled with cheeky innuendo about why we’d left early meant my responses could wait.
Nosy buggers, I thought with a small smile on my face.
That was seconds before I dozed off.
I woke up to Baird trying to lift me gently out of the car.
I assured him I was awake when I was really only semiconscious, and I sleep-drunkenly got into my flat with his help.
We had this to do all over again tomorrow, and I just wanted to snuggle into Baird’s chest and sleep for a hundred hours first.
Instead, Baird insisted I stay awake long enough to eat the takeout he’d apparently picked up on the way home. I’d slept through him stopping to go into a Chinese restaurant to collect food!
“You were totally out.” He stroked my cheek after I watched him place lettuce wraps on a plate. It was the exact right thing to order for me.
He saw me gaping at the wraps and stated, “Lettuce wraps when you’re not that hungry. Kung pao chicken when you are. And I got vegetable spring rolls.”
It was weird. Even after all the lovely, amazing things he’d said to me when he confessed that he’d wanted me romantically since the beginning …
it was at this moment when it finally hit.
Our entire friendship, Baird had been so into me, he’d soaked up every minute detail.
Including the fact that when my stomach was feeling a bit sensitive or I wasn’t hungry, I always ordered lettuce wraps.
“What else do you know about me?” I whispered.
Whatever he heard in my tone, Baird’s expression turned serious. “I know you swim three times a week, not just for the fitness but because it’s the one place your mind focuses and all your stress melts away for a while.”
Facts.
I held my breath, waiting.
“I know you love fashion and that you take your time presenting yourself to the world, not because you’re hung up on your looks but because it’s your armor.
Because your mum’s situation made people look at you like you were less than, and you never want to feel that way again.
I know you listen to Taylor Swift when you’re in a good mood, Paramore when you’re pissed off, and Lord Huron when you’re chilled out.
” His lips twitched. “This is just a guess, but I think Hozier might be when you’re horny. ”
My lips parted on a “Uh!” squeak as I whacked his arm. “How did you know that?”
Baird threw his head back in laughter.
I was half shocked at everything he said.
When his laughter trailed off, his eyes still danced with humor. “I pay attention, My. And believe me, there were days I came over and you were listening to Hozier, and I wondered what the fuck Will wasn’t doing for you, and it was really hard not to make an arsehole move.”
My cheeks flushed. I was now fully awake again. “Oh my god.”
His gaze smoldered even as he reached for the cutlery.
“I know your favorite dishes are cacio e pepe if it’s Italian, kung pao chicken if it’s Chinese, pad Thai noodles if it’s Thai, a haggis supper if it’s from the chippy, and butter chicken—Indian.
You love fish but can’t stomach most shellfish.
A mojito is your favorite cocktail. Champagne is your favorite overall, but you’re not a big drinker and you’d prefer to nurse a glass of bubbly because you think most alcohol tastes like, and I quote, ‘Swill.’ Whatever that means.
I know you love traveling for fashion month, but I can tell you’re uncomfortable around industry people because when you talk about it, there’s always this wee telltale wrinkle between your nose and that light in your eyes when you talk about the actual clothes winks out. I know—”
I reached up to cover his mouth with my palm, my pulse pounding in my ears. His eyebrows rose in question.
“If you say much more, I’m going to melt into a puddle at your feet.” I felt his smile against my palm. “And then die of guilt.”
Baird frowned, pulling my hand from his mouth. “Why?”
“Because … because while you are the one person who has ever given a shit enough to notice all those things about me … I didn’t even notice you felt that way.” Tears brightened my eyes. “I was such a blind idiot. Literally and metaphorically.”
Baird grinned, bending his head to press a soft kiss to my mouth.
He pulled back to search my eyes. “No guilt, My. We were in different places. Now we’re in the same place, and that’s all I care about.
” He leaned back and lifted the plate to me.
“Now, eat something before you fall asleep. Go sit. I’ll make tea and grab some water. ”
He was taking care of me.
In fact, Baird McMillan had been taking care of me for far longer than I realized.
I promised myself as I settled on the couch that I was going to start taking care of him right back.
So as tired as I was, I said, “Uh-uh” when Baird reached for the TV remote. “We’re going to talk. About what you said the night you told me you had feelings for me. About football. How you feel about it now.”
He swallowed his bite of stir-fried noodles. “Sneak attack, eh?”
“Well?”
“We can talk about that later. It’s been a long day, My.”
“We’ll talk about it later if that’s really what you want, but I’d like to talk about it now. I want to make sure that my fiancé isn’t dreading going to training every day.”
His expression softened. “I had a bit of a … what do you call it? Epiphany? Aye, an epiphany today.” He then went on to explain how I’d helped him feel grateful for what he had in life.
How so few young men who dreamed of playing professional football ever made it into the league.
How he was grateful for the eight years he’d played.
“That’s how I’m going to keep looking at it.
And if I start to think that my fears really are winning and I’m not enjoying the game anymore, I’ll walk away and be grateful for how long it lasted.
I just … I still need time to figure out if I’m ready to walk away or if I want to fight for it. There’s no magic answer. Just … time.”
Pride flooded my chest, so I told him I was proud of him.
He gave me a boyish grin. “Aye?”
“Aye.” I smiled, lowering my eyes so he couldn’t see my overwhelming emotions. “You know, behind that gregarious ‘life of the party’ demeanor, you’re more mature than men ten years older than you. Maybe even more mature than me.” I shrugged self-deprecatingly.
“Och, I wouldn’t go that far, beautiful.”
I looked up to meet his tender but wicked smile.
“After all, it’s a bit of a kink for me that I’ve bagged myself an older woman.”
I promptly plucked a mushroom out of my lettuce wrap and threw it at him. “Don’t ever call me an older woman again.”
He shook the piece of mushroom out of his hair, shoulders shaking with laughter. His voice trembled with it as he taunted, “You do realize when you’re forty, I’ll only be thirty-six.”
“I hate you.”
Baird laughed harder. “It’s a four-year age gap, gorgeous. Not ten. No big deal.”
A sudden thought flashed in my mind, making my smile slide right off my face.
“What? What just happened?”
“Nothing,” I squeaked out. It was way too soon to bring it up.
“It’s definitely something.” Baird put his plate down on my coffee table and turned his body into mine. “Talk to me. Because I can’t have you getting in your head—not when I finally know how fucking good it is between us.”
His concern incited my remorse. I didn’t want him constantly battling against my overthinking but … “If I told you what just crossed my mind, you’d run so far and so fast I’d see a Baird-shaped hole in my front door.”
He grinned that sexy grin of his. “I doubt it. Tell me.” At my hesitation, he prompted, “Did you know I’m like a dog with a bone when I want something?”
The fact that he’d stuck around for over a year waiting for me to open my eyes and see he was the better choice, I think I did. Oh well. Here went nothing.
“I’m thirty. By thirty-five … pregnancy is considered high risk.”
One thick handsome eyebrow quirked up toward his forehead.
“Rethinking the Baird-shaped hole?”
“Keep going.”
“I … thought I’d most likely have a child by the time I was thirty-five.”
“And that won’t happen now why? My swimmers are all in working order, as far as I’m aware.”
I gaped at him. “But … but … you’re only twenty-six.”
“And?” He shuffled closer to me. “Obviously, I want you to myself for a bit longer. But I also want to be a young dad. I want to have energy to raise my kids.”
He just … he just kept surprising me. Over and over again. “I … you want kids? You’ve thought about it?”
“Of course. I was never not open to finding the right person and starting a family just because I played the field.”
After several long seconds of me staring at him, Baird bent his head to mine. “Are you ever going to speak again?”
I shook my head.
His lips twitched. “That would be a shame because I enjoy the sound of your voice.” He waggled his brows. “Especially when you’re screaming my name.”
I shoved him playfully, almost losing my dinner plate.
He rescued it for me and asked quietly, “So … are we good, My?”
“We’re more than good, Bear. I’m … you make me happy.”
His chest moved upward in one heave of feeling. When he exhaled, he let out hoarsely, “You make me happy too.”
As we cuddled into each other, picking at our food, I squeezed my eyes closed, soaking in this unbelievable contentment. Joy. Thrill. Hope. For a beautiful future together.
I did my very best to shove back that insidious wee voice in my head that whispered I couldn’t be this lucky. That something or someone would find a way to take Baird McMillan away from me.