Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHARLIE
I sat at the kitchen table, laptop open, trying to focus on the latest contract negotiations for a new blockbuster trilogy. But I couldn’t keep my eyes on the screen. Instead, they kept wandering to the woman currently rummaging through the fridge.
She’d been at it for at least five minutes, humming and mumbling to herself while jars clinked together. I bit my lip. Why did she need to reorganise the fridge again? Hadn’t she got it right the first three times?
Ever since the birthing class, she’d become very particular. Despite arguing that she didn’t need to buy things to decorate, she’d started filling my living room with bright, colourful pillows and throws. New mugs and dishware had appeared in the cupboards.
Another five minutes ticked by before she emerged with a jar of pickles in hand, and bumped the door shut with her hip. I couldn’t help but stare.
She was... glowing. No other word for it. Her skin had a radiant quality, her eyes sparkled with life and her breasts…
I bit off a groan and tore my gaze away.
Pregnancy suited her, even if she hadn’t realised it yet.
This week marked eleven weeks since she’d moved in with me. I thought we’d settled into our new life with relative ease. If I wasn’t working, I was reading every pregnancy and parenting book I could get my hands on. Emma’s body continued to change and I constantly found myself desperately grasping for self-control.
My resolve to keep things platonic was crumbling by the day. The promise I’d made to wait until after the baby was born felt increasingly impossible to keep. But I had to try, for Emma’s sake and for our child’s.
Something about being able to visibly see the effects of my baby growing inside of her did funny things to me. One look at her and I got hard. It made zero sense, but I couldn’t act on it no matter how much I now regretted uttering those damn words.
She wanted this to be uncomplicated and I would do everything in my power to give her that until she delivered the baby. Then all bets were off.
Even if it gives me the worst case of blue balls in history.
It felt like I’d been walking on eggshells for a week since I caught her swiping on a dating app. She hadn’t gone on any dates yet, but that didn’t stop the dread growing inside of me, waiting for the day she’d come downstairs dressed up for one.
I studied her. Would I be able to tell if she had met someone? Her demeanour hadn’t changed, though I had made it a point to stay away as much as possible in the last week.
The cravings had well and truly set in. She seemed to take it all in stride, including accepting that she’d developed a liking for pickles. There hadn’t been any middle of the night snack runs like some of the films I’d watched had warned would come. But then I had taken extra care to stock the kitchen with every food I could imagine her wanting.
She hummed happily as she plucked one of the green wedges from the jar. One bite and she moaned. My cock instantly responded.
Friends. You’re just friends.
I bit my cheek.
For the last few weeks, I’d gotten used to the sight of her biteable ass in yoga leggings. Today, she’d traded them in for jeans.
Maybe she’s going out.
With a guy? My eyes narrowed while panic tried to close off my airways. Other than the jeans there were no other differences. Her brown hair hung in loose natural waves around her face like usual, no makeup covered her face and her purse still sat on the side table where she’d dropped it a few days ago.
If she were meeting a guy, wouldn’t she do her hair and makeup?
“Are you going out?” I asked finally, somehow keeping my voice level.
She glanced at me, almost noticing me for the first time. Her brow wrinkled. “No, why would you think that?”
Relief slammed into me. I nodded to the jeans and her confusion cleared.
“Oh, I was just checking the fit.” She shrugged. “I promised Mona I’d get coffee next week. Didn’t think I should do that in yoga leggings.”
My gaze dropped to her waist again. Her shirt had ridden up, revealing a sliver of skin. A fucking hair tie held her jeans closed.
Why hadn’t she said anything? I could have taken her shopping days ago.
Then she reached for a glass on a high shelf.
“We’ve talked about this.” I pushed my seat back and rushed over to her. “Ask me for help when you can’t reach something.”
“I’ve got it.” She turned slightly towards me, waving me off. “I’m fine.”
“Maybe.” I gently pushed her out of the way. “But I’d rather you not risk hurting yourself when I can help.”
I plucked the glass off the shelf and handed it to her, my gaze never wavering from her amused but frustrated eyes.
We stood so close, her growing baby bump brushed against me. How had I not realised how much her body had changed already? She’d always been petite, but now there was a definite curve to her belly, a roundness that hadn’t been there before last week.
I backed away, intending to return to my work, but I couldn’t tear my eyes from her and that ridiculous hair tie, much less my mind.
“Get your things.” I shut my laptop and snatched my keys off the table. “We’re going shopping.”
Emma turned, pickle halfway to her mouth, her brow scrunched with confusion. “What? Why?”
I gestured to her makeshift jeans fastener. “You need maternity clothes.”
A blush crept up her cheeks, and she tugged her shirt down self-consciously. “Oh, that. It’s fine, really. I don’t need?—”
“Yes, you do.” I took the jar of pickles from her and set them on the counter. “I’m buying you a whole new wardrobe.”
Her eyes widened. “Charlie, no.” With a firm but gentle hold, I guided her out of the kitchen. “You don’t have to do that. I’m only going to get bigger, so I might as well wait a little longer.”
“Not taking no for an answer, Sullivan.”
“Stop.” She dug in her heels and I stopped, my brows raising. She glanced away, her expression sheepish. “I can’t afford it. My savings will only cover so much and I need to be strategic if?—”
“That’s easily fixed. I’m paying.”
She stared at me, her eyes rounding. “No. You can’t.”
“It’s my fault your clothes don’t fit. Buying you new ones is the least I can do.”
She opened her mouth to protest again, but I was already ushering her towards the door.
“Come on, it’ll be fun. Promise.”
T hirty minutes later, we were standing outside a trendy maternity boutique that had come highly recommended. My clients and assistant found it hilarious that I’d gone from asking them for restaurant recommendations and hot tickets to requesting OB-GYN contacts and parenting tips. I, on the other hand, considered myself smart. Why struggle when we had a fount of knowledge within easy reach?
Emma’s eyes widened as she took in the white and gold rimmed window display. “This place looks expensive. I really don’t need?—”
“Nope,” I cut her off, guiding her towards the door with a hand on the small of her back. “No more protests. Your comfort is worth every penny to me.” I opened the door and ushered her in. “Take your pick of the store, there’s no limit.”
She bit her lip, looking torn. “But they’ll only fit for a couple of months, and then they’ll just get thrown out. It’s such a waste.”
I turned her to face me with a hand on her shoulder. “You deserve the best, and that includes comfortable, stylish clothes. Please, let me do this for you.”
“I don’t know.” She continued to chew her lip.
“I’ve got some work things coming up and it would be amazing to have a date for once.”
It wasn’t a lie. It felt like my clients had gotten together and agreed to release all of their projects in the same month. Add the charity events and dinner engagements to the mix and my summer was about to get very busy. It would be nice to not have to fend off some attention-seeking starlet masquerading as my date for the night.
When she didn’t bite, I added: “And my friends want us to go on a double date.” I winced the second the words fell from my lips. “Not that I — I didn’t tell them that we were?—”
She tilted her head, staring at me with utter confusion. Sighing, I gave up trying to explain myself and focused on the true purpose.
“Don’t you want to feel comfortable when you meet them?”
Finally, she nodded. “Okay. But I’m putting everything but the essentials back once I try it on.”
I grinned, knowing I’d won this round. “Whatever you say, darling.”
The bell above the door jingled as we stepped into the boutique, a chic little place tucked between a juice bar and a yoga studio my assistant had recommended. The shop assistant, a blonde with a pixie cut and a bright smile, greeted us with clasped hands.
“Welcome! How can I help you today?”
I smiled. “We’re looking for a whole new wardrobe for this gorgeous mama-to-be. She’s just starting to show, and we want to make sure she has everything she needs to feel comfortable and beautiful.”
Emma stiffened under my touch, and I mentally kicked myself.
Too much. Dial it back.
The shop assistant didn’t seem to notice the tension, her smile only widened. “Congratulations. You make such a stunning couple.”
“Oh, we’re not...” Emma shook her head. “I mean, he’s not my...”
“Thank you.” My gaze trailed over the nearby racks, avoiding Emma’s at all costs. I didn’t need to look to feel the daggers she directed at me. “We need a complete wardrobe overhaul, from basics to formal wear. Clothes that’ll fit right now but also in a few months time.”
“Understood.”
“There’s no limit.” I fished my wallet out of my pocket and pulled out the black Amex I rarely used. The assistant’s eyes widened a fraction. “Whatever Emma wants, it’s hers.”
“Yes, sir.” The assistant grinned and took the card.
“Okay, stop.” Emma turned on me, her eyes wide and frantic. “This isn’t necessary. Seriously, Charlie. I’ll get a couple of bits but we?—”
“Need to present a unified front. What would my clients and friends think if they saw you spilling out of your clothes?” My brows rose as her eyes narrowed. I hated pulling the image card on her. To me, she looked gorgeous no matter what she wore, but I needed her to accept my offer. “We might not be in a relationship, Em, but you are carrying my baby and my clients do expect me to uphold a particular image.”
For a moment, she just stared at me. Then she growled, “Fine,” and stormed off between the racks of flowy dresses and stretchy leggings.
Relief briefly washed over me, though I knew that wouldn’t be the end of it. The damn woman was too stubborn for her own good sometimes. No, I fully expected her to fulfil part of the order while watching every single penny.
For now, I trailed after them, content to let Emma take the lead. I watched as she ran her fingers over soft fabrics, her eyes lighting up at a particularly cute top or a cosy-looking pair of joggers. Every so often, she’d glance back at me, holding up an item with a questioning tilt of her head. I’d nod encouragingly, giving her a thumbs up or a wink.
But as the pile of clothes in her arms grew, I noticed an unsurprising pattern. She kept gravitating towards the sale racks, her brow puckering as she checked price tags and put items back with a sigh.
I caught the shop assistant’s eye, motioning her over while Emma was distracted by a display of nursing bras.
“She’s holding back.” I glanced at Emma, making sure she was out of earshot. “Anything you see her put back, grab it and add it to a fitting room.”
“Got it.” She nodded, understanding dawning in her eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she gets everything that makes her eyes light up.”
I grinned, grateful for her perceptiveness. “You’re a lifesaver.”
She wandered back to Emma and I let my gaze wander the store, taking in the racks of colourful clothes and the soft, soothing background music. It was a world away from what I was used to, but there was something comforting about it.
My attention landed on a display in the corner, and my breath froze. Nestled between the racks of sensible nightgowns and stretchy yoga pants was a collection of maternity lingerie. Delicate lace and shimmery satin in soft, muted shades that made my mouth go dry.
Before I could stop myself, an image of Emma in one of those wispy little numbers filled my mind. The way the fabric would stretch over her new curves, the lace framing her collarbones and brushing against her thighs...
I hardened instantly. Heat rushed through me, desire and shame warring in my gut.
What the hell was I thinking? I’d agreed to keep our relationship strictly platonic. I couldn’t have these thoughts. We hadn’t even talked about the kiss in the doctor’s office. I had no business picturing her like that, no matter how beautiful she was.
But god, she was beautiful. Even more so now, with the glow of pregnancy softening her features and rounding her hips. I’d always thought she was gorgeous, but something about seeing her body change, knowing it was because of our child growing inside her... it did things to me. Things I wasn’t ready to examine too closely.
I swallowed hard, tearing my gaze away from the lingerie display. I needed to focus on being her friend, her support system. Not some creep who fantasised about her in skimpy underwear.