Chapter 21
MORE THAN FRIENDS
LYDIA
FIFTEEN WEEKS PREGNANT
Something has changed with Fletcher since that lunch with my parents.
It’s been so hard having him out of town for the last two weeks, only available for scattered text conversations and quick calls before games.
He was off for the first half of the road trip, but in the second half, it was like he turned into a brand-new player.
Even his messages had a different tone. Dare I say, almost flirtatious? I shake my head. No. I’m overthinking this.
When he gets home, I’m going to talk to him. I can’t stop thinking about his offer to be the father to my baby. But that had to have been a spur-of-the-moment thing. I mean, there’s no way he was serious.
It’s past eleven at night, and I’m sitting on the couch working on my latest crochet project.
My wrist is finally feeling better, so I haven’t been wearing the brace at all this week.
The front door opens, and Fletcher walks in, looking absolutely exhausted.
His bag is slung over his shoulder, and he drops it to the floor, kicking off his boots.
“Hey, you,” I say.
Fletcher gasps, his eyes growing wide. “What are you doing awake? I thought you’d be asleep.”
Some of the familiar puppy dog excitement he gets when he sees me seeps into his face, a grin tugging at his lips.
“I wanted to see you.” I shrug. “Missed you.”
Fletcher rushes over to the sectional where I’m bundled up on the chaise.
He sits, scooting close. He wraps his arms around my shoulders, and his whole body relaxes.
I put my project on the side table to my left.
Relief floods through me. Maybe things are okay between us, and I’m overreacting.
The comfort he brings me sinks in like a warm blanket.
“How are you?” I ask.
“Been better.” His jaw visibly ticks. “Rough few weeks.”
“Same,” I say, hoping this is my opening to talk to him.
Fletcher stiffens. “What happened? Is the baby okay?”
I can’t help but laugh. “The baby is fine. But I can’t shake this feeling that something is off with us.” I gesture between us.
Fletcher nods, looking down.
“I know you mentioned stepping up to be the baby’s father, and if you’re having regrets, that’s fine, we can forget you ever said—”
He slips a hand over my mouth.
“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence.
I meant what I said, and I’ll say it over and over again until you hear me.
” His tone leaves no room for argument, so I nod.
“When I said that, I wasn’t saying it because I want to play a part.
Not only will I be the baby’s dad, but more than that.
I want to be your partner. In all of the ways I can be. ”
My breath catches in my throat. What does he mean? He wants to be my partner?
“My—What?” I can’t get a full sentence out.
My brain is whirring, unable to compute the words that came from his lips. Is this a new pregnancy symptom? Hallucinating things? There’s no way this is real.
“I want more. Have for a long time. I’ve been ready to take a step and prove to you that we could be more, that we could be amazing together. I’ll be the first to admit I’m scared, but there is nothing I want more.”
One look at his face and I know he’s telling the truth. There’s no way he isn’t. I’ve known this man for a long time, and he’s never been one to lie. Well, other than when he tells me he didn’t drink the last of the milk, even though he definitely did.
“You—you want more?” I ask in a shaky voice.
“I do. And I know this is a lot, so if you need time to think, I get it.” He takes my hand in his, running his thumb over the top of it.
His knuckles are bruised and cut open from a fight he got into on the ice last night, and I wrestle with the urge to rush him to the bathroom and clean the wounds.
I don’t know what I want. I need time to think.
Is he doing this because of the baby, or does he truly want me?
Has he felt this shift between us the same way I have?
I can’t deny I want this, but now that he’s handing it to me on a silver platter, I feel like I need to look at this from a logistical end.
“What do you say to a date Tuesday night?” he asks, opening my palm and drawing swirling circles on the skin. “No strings attached, no expectations. Just something I have planned for the two of us.”
“You already have a date planned?”
How long has he been planning this?
“Sure do. And I think you’re going to love it.” A contagious smile crosses his face as he looks up at me.
“What are we doing?”
“You’ll see. I’ll pick your outfit, so don’t stress about that.”
“You’ll pick my outfit?” I question, raising my brows.
“I have impeccable style, Lydi. Trust me. You’re going to love this.”
I look at his handsome face and those sage green eyes I love, taking in the grown-out length of his beard. “Are you going to shave?”
He smirks. “Tomorrow ends the no-shave donation challenge we were doing, so yeah.”
“Are you going for a clean shave or a mustache this time?”
“Depends.” Fletcher winks. “What do you prefer?”
I shrug. “Surprise me.”
Easy, carefree moments like this have always been my favorite, but now I’m looking at them through a different lens. Could we be more than friends? Am I ready to take that step?
“Will do.” Fletcher wraps his arm around me, pulling me so my head rests on his shoulder.
“Is it weird that I’m still processing this? I’m having a baby. It doesn’t feel real.”
Fletcher hesitates, biting his lower lip. “It doesn’t for me, either. But I know that it’s going to be amazing. You’re going to be amazing.”
I squeeze my eyes shut as the world becomes blurry.
“Thanks.” My voice wavers. “I don’t think I could do this without you.”
Fletcher scoffs. “Yes, you could. I don’t know how to take care of babies, so I’ll probably hurt more than help, but there’s nowhere I would rather be.”
The soft press of his lips to the top of my head makes me shiver. It’s not something I’m used to, but it feels nice, like a bridge into this new chapter of our friendship. Or maybe something more.
“Can you tell me now?” I ask for the tenth time since we got into Fletcher’s car.
Fletcher laughs under his breath. “No. Like I said before, you’ll see when we get there.”
He drapes his hand over my thick thigh, only instead of a simple tap like usual, he rests it there, his large palm spread, giving it a gentle squeeze. Those traitorous goose bumps spread down my arms, a regular occurrence now when he touches me.
I must admit, he did a good job picking my outfit. He chose my favorite pastel pink sweater dress and tall boots. The only thing I added was a pair of sheer tights. He even picked a matching hat and my wool peacoat.
As for him, I nearly melted when he stepped out into the living room. He shaved his beard, leaving a nice trim on his cheeks, but above his lip sits a dark mustache. On anyone else, I would hate it, but on him? It’s so handsome.
He is wearing a pair of dark brown slacks, a tan turtleneck sweater, and his tan wool peacoat over it all. He looks like he stepped straight out of a magazine.
Giddiness thrums through my body as we drive outside of the city and into a small town. I’ve been in this area a few times, but not recently.
Fletcher keeps his hand on my thigh for the remainder of the drive until we reach our destination. When we pull into a parking lot, and the only thing I can see is Christmas lights, my heart skips a beat.
“A Christmas festival?” I wonder aloud, smiling to myself.
I don’t get an answer out of Fletcher before he’s climbing out of the car and around to my side, opening the door, and holding a hand out to me.
“Ready?” he asks.
I can barely see the hint of redness in his cheeks. Is he nervous?
“Yes,” I whisper, taking his hand.
Instead of dropping it when I’m on my own two feet, he laces our fingers together, swinging our arms as we walk toward the entrance.