Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
EMMA
“ L isten here, little peanut.” I tossed the sad excuse for a snack aside and flopped back on the couch, one hand resting on my slightly swollen stomach. “You need to cool it with these cravings, okay? ”
The sound of a key in the lock made me sit up straight.
No. He didn’t actually...
“Special delivery!” he called out as he stepped through the door with grocery bags in hand, looking for all the world like he’d just won the lottery. “One order of green mangoes and spicy peanut sauce, coming right up!”
He made his way to the kitchen.
I followed him, torn between gratitude and mortification. “You didn’t have to do this. It’s the middle of the day, don’t you have work?”
He shrugged, already pulling out a cutting board. “Work can wait. This is way more important.”
I watched, dumbfounded, as he expertly sliced the mangoes and whipped up a quick peanut sauce. I should have stopped him, but I couldn’t stop watching. And those pesky cravings sat up and took notice at the first sniff of tart, slightly acidic fruit.
“Is this okay for the baby?” I eyed the spicy sauce.
Charlie paused, knife hovering over a mango. “I think so. The books said most cravings are fine unless it’s, you know, coal or something non-edible.”
I laughed, patting my belly. “Hear that, little one? Daddy’s been doing his homework.”
“Of course.” He shook his head. “I am not being caught unawares, thank you very much.”
He went back to prepping the mangoes, but I couldn’t stop staring at him. Never in my wildest dreams did I think he’d come around this well.
“I can’t believe you actually left work for this,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “You shouldn’t have to cater to my crazy cravings.”
“Hey, it’s okay.” He turned to me, his expression softer than I’d ever seen it. “My assistant already thinks I’m losing my mind, so we might as well go crazy together, right?”
A laugh bubbled up, surprising me with its intensity. “Your poor assistant. She’s probably wondering what drug brainwashed you and turned you into my domestic god.”
“God, huh?” Charlie wiggled his brows. “I like the sound of that.”
I shook my head, amused despite myself. “Well don’t let it go to your head.”
He chuckled. “Too late.”
He plated the chopped mango and drizzled sauce over it. I stared at him, overwhelmed but frozen to the spot. Then he pulled out a jar of pickles and a wave of emotion hit me. What had I done to deserve any of this? “You know, the only person who’s ever gone out of their way for me like this is Lila.”
His hands stilled, and he turned to face me, his features serious. “What do you mean?”
I shrugged, trying to play it off as nothing while my heart worked on twisting itself into a knot in my chest. “Growing up, I didn’t have many people in my corner. My aunt, she wasn’t…” I trailed off, memories flooding back.
“Your aunt wasn’t what?”
I took a deep breath. “She raised me after my parents died. But she wasn’t exactly... maternal.” I bit my lip and willed the burn in my eyes to take a hike.
No one had cared about that though. All the British social services saw was a nine-year-old with no family in the country and two passports. They’d contacted my aunt within a day of my parents passing. She’d jumped on a red-eye, freed me from temporary foster care, taken care of my parents’ funeral and then flown us back to the US hours after the last piece of dirt covered their casket.
“Once in high school, I got really sick. Had to spend the whole day in the nurse’s office because she had taken off on some last-minute road trip and wasn’t answering the school’s calls. Didn’t even tell me she was leaving.”
His eyes widened. “Jesus, that’s awful. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine. Ancient history, right?” I shook my head, forcing a smile. “I just... I guess what I’m trying to say is, thank you. For the mangoes, for everything. It means more than you know.”
“You don’t have to thank me, Em.” Charlie stepped closer, his hands capturing mine and squeezing. “This is what partners do, right? We take care of each other.”
Partners.
One word should not be able to turn me inside out. The joy that rushed through me should have terrified me. Instead, I embraced it, basked in the warmth of it. I know I’d barrelled in with this unfounded hope that he’d help me, but the last few weeks had defied my expectations. Maybe everything would work out.
“I guess so. I’m just not used to it, you know? Having someone to lean on.”
“Well, get used to it,” he muttered. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”
Our gazes locked and the world faded away while I got lost in Charlie’s hazel eyes. Something about him pulled me in, made me feel safe.
The urge to close the distance, to taste his lips again, screamed through every fibre of my being.
Charlie cleared his throat and took a step back. “So, uh, want to eat these mangoes before they turn brown?”
He picked up the plate, while I laughed, grateful for the break in tension.
“God, yes. I’ve been dreaming about them all day.”
He placed them on the breakfast bar and pulled out a stool for me. I took a seat, happily settling in to devour the fruit. We chatted, that sense of comfort I hadn’t experienced in years continuing to consume me. It was nice, this little bubble of domesticity we’d created.
As I savoured a particularly juicy piece of mango, I felt a flutter in my stomach. “I think the baby approves,” I said with a grin.
His eyes lit up. “Really? Can you feel it moving already?”
I shook my head. “Not exactly. It’s more like... a flutter. Like butterflies.”
His face transformed, a mix of awe and excitement washing over his features. His eyes widened, and he leaned forward, as if he could somehow see or hear the flutter himself.
“That’s... wow,” he breathed, his voice filled with wonder.
“Can I ask you something?” I said, licking peanut sauce off my fingers in a way that was decidedly unladylike.
Charlie nodded, his gaze fixed to my lips. “Shoot.”
“Are you scared? About... all of this?” I gestured vaguely at my stomach. “Being a parent, I mean.”
Silence reigned, and I worried I’d overstepped.
He released a shuddering breath and smiled. “More terrified than words can convey, actually.”
“Really? You seem so put together about all this. Like you’ve got it all figured out.”
He let out a soft, self-deprecating laugh. “Trust me, half the time I’m convinced I’m going to royally screw this up.”
His honesty caught me off guard. It was both comforting and unsettling.
“But you’ve been amazing.” I gestured to the plate of mangoes. “You’re already doing all these thoughtful things. I mean, who leaves work in the middle of the day to cater to pregnancy cravings?”
“A guy who’s trying really hard not to mess up the most important thing that’s ever happened to him.”
My heart did a little flip. He meant the baby, not me. “You won’t mess up.” Hell, he was practically perfect. “I’ve seen how dedicated you are. You’re going to be a great dad.”
Charlie threw me a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I appreciate your faith in me. I just hope I can live up to it.”
I wanted to reassure him further, to wipe away the doubt clouding his eyes, but before I could form the words, a wave of nausea struck me out of nowhere. The mangoes, which had tasted like heaven moments ago, now churned in my stomach.
“Oh god,” I groaned, clapping a hand over my mouth.
Charlie’s eyes widened in alarm as I pushed the stool back. He tried to reach for me but I shook my head, unable to speak as I bolted from the kitchen. I barely made it to the bathroom before emptying the contents of my stomach into the toilet. “Em?” His soft voice filtered through the door, filled with concern. “Can I get you anything?”
I wanted to tell him to go away, to leave me to my misery, but another wave of nausea hit, and all I could do was groan. The door opened and I waved a hand blindly, trying to silently tell him I was fine. Of course, it would have helped sell the image if I wasn’t hugging the toilet and heaving.
His hand landed on my back and he crouched down beside me, rubbing gentle circles as I continued to retch. When I finally finished, he handed me a damp washcloth without a word.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, wiping my face. “Sorry you had to see that.”
“Hey, no apologies needed.” Charlie shook his head, his expression a mix of concern and... was that amusement? “I signed up for this, remember? Morning sickness and all.”
“Come on, let’s get you to the sofa. I’ll grab you some water and crackers.”
Charlie settled me on the couch and wrapped a soft throw blanket around my shoulders. Then he disappeared into the kitchen, leaving me to sink into the plush cushions and shut my eyes. I tried to will the lingering nausea away. It would clear eventually, but I hated these moments of uncertainty, waiting for it to overpower me and catch me unawares.
“Here you go.” He placed a plate of plain crackers on the coffee table and took a seat next to me, his thigh brushing against mine.
The casual contact sent a jolt through me. He pressed a glass of water against my lips. “Small sips, okay?”
“Thanks,” I said when I’d emptied half the glass. “You didn’t have to do all this.”
“You’ve got to stop thanking me for basic human decency.”
“I’m just not used to this. Having someone around when things get messy. Literally and figuratively.”
“Well, get used to it. Because I’m not going anywhere.”
“What’s your favourite food?”
He laughed. “I was wondering if you’d forgotten.” He shook his head, but chewed his lip, giving it serious thought. “I’d have to say my mom’s poutine. It’s this Canadian dish with fries, gravy, and cheese curds. Sounds weird, but it’s amazing.”
I wrinkled my nose as my stomach rumbled. “That does sound weird. But oddly appealing right now.”
“Pregnancy cravings strike again?”
“Maybe. I don’t know, but something tells me you’d be insulted if the baby hated your favourite dish.”
“Nah, I’d just start converting them to Canadian food after birth.” He grinned. “What about you?”
“Probably a really good New York style pizza. Thin crust, lots of cheese, and yes, sometimes with pineapple.”
He groaned dramatically. “I can’t believe I’m having a baby with a pineapple-on-pizza person. What have I gotten myself into?”
I swatted his arm playfully. “Hey, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. Maybe the baby will inherit my superior pizza tastes.”
“God help us if that happens.”