Chapter 21 Sage
SAGE
The door to my bedroom opens slowly, and Brady fills the frame. He lifts one arm over his head, placing his hand on the frame and leaning into it.
“What was that about?” he asks.
Mutely, I shrug.
He takes a step into my room. “No, I'm not going to let you avoid this. No more running. What was that out there? You kissed me.”
“And you kissed me back,” I blurt without thinking.
“Fucking right, I did,” he says, followed by a low chuckle. “I couldn't hold back any longer. Do you have any idea how hard it's been these last couple of weeks? Watching you, being so near to you, but not being able to touch you?”
His voice is raw, and full of emotion. Full of yearning.
“Brady,” I whisper. He steps closer and I scramble up to sitting, still holding the pillow to my stomach.
“Sage,” he whispers back.
I lift up onto my knees, discarding the pillow as he closes the distance between us, and then his lips are on mine again and I'm burning up from the inside out. And yet, despite the heat, despite the fire, I've never felt safer.
Brady breaks away first, resting his forehead against mine, his hands gripping my hips tightly. “Wait, I didn't come here for this. We have to talk.”
I nod, and with a shaky exhale, I move slightly so he can sit down beside me. He immediately takes my legs and drapes them over his lap, tucking me into his side.
“I won't pretend to fully understand everything you've been through, why you keep pushing me away, and why it's so hard for you to believe that I could be good for you.
And I know you could do so much better than a washed-up baseball player on a small-town team, barely making enough to support himself and his siblings.
But I'm asking you for a chance.” His voice grows stronger.
“Just one chance to see whatever this is between us grow into something amazing. Because I know that it could.”
I reach up and cup his cheek, feeling the brush of his stubble against my palm. His eyes close for a second, then open again, and he stares down at me.
“I don't know how to stop running. I don't know how to let someone care for me. Not the way you want to.” I choke back a sob. “I’ve been on my own for so long, having to take care of myself, having to do it all alone. I don't know if I can be the woman you think you want.”
“All I want is you,” he says emphatically and without hesitation.
“And if I hurt you?” The words rush out of me.
“If I can't stay here forever and be the happy family you’re imagining?
What if everything falls apart and it's all my fault?
How are we going to move forward if that happens?
We're having a kid together, Brady. If it doesn't work out, what will that mean for our child?”
“It will still mean they have two parents who love them, who are committed to giving them a good life. But don't they deserve a chance at having two parents who also love each other?”
I want that. So badly. It's like a dream I've never let myself have. A reality for so many, but a fantasy for me. And he's offering it all.
“What…what would it look like?” I ask softly, dropping my gaze down to my lap. “If we were together, I mean.”
I feel his chest rise and fall with a long, slow breath before he responds.
“Are you asking me what I wish it could look like? Or what I think you'd be willing to accept?” he asks wryly.
I wince. I deserve that. “Tell me what you wish.”
“For starters, you would stop trying to move out of here and into some dump of an apartment. You’d let me hold you in my arms, feed you, rub your feet when they hurt, and drive you to work.
But most importantly, you’d let me in. We’d talk and really get to know each other, not just on the surface level where we decide if we can be friends and co-parents.
We’d get deep. Find out who we are, and who we could be together. ”
His arms tighten around me.
“You’d let me love you.”
Silence falls when he stops talking, as I let his words seep into my bones, into my very soul.
“That sounds really nice,” I whisper. “And I think…I could fall in love with you, too.”
Gentle fingers graze my chin and tilt it upward. Those warm brown eyes are soft. Beautifully tender. And filled with hope.
“So…”
I lick my lips and give him a tremulous smile. “So, I'm staying. In this apartment, and with you.”
This time, when he kisses me, I feel light and free. I let him take it deeper as I awkwardly swing my legs over and straddle his lap. But as our bodies press close together, something unexpected happens.
“Wait,” Brady says, pulling back with a gasp. “Was that…?”
I rub my stomach. “Our child telling us exactly what they think about us being together? Yes, apparently so. You could feel that?” I look up at him with a growing smile.
His face is full of wonder as he nods. I take his hand and place it right where the bubbling sensation of our baby moving inside of me is the strongest. A few seconds pass with Brady staring intently at my stomach before it happens again and his gaze shoots up to mine.
“Holy shit.”
I burst out in laughter. “Right? It's the weirdest feeling ever. At first I thought I was just imagining it. But it's gotten a lot stronger over the last week.”
Without any warning, Brady stands up, still holding me in his arms, turns around, and deposits me on the bed. He sits down beside me and drops his head down until he’s hovering over my stomach. Only then does he pause and look up at me.
“Is this okay?” he asks.
I nod.
His head drops back down as his hands caress my stomach, and his lips graze a kiss across the rounded bulge.
“Hi baby, it’s Daddy. I love you,” he says, and I melt.
My fingers rake through his hair as he kisses my belly again. Then he moves, stretching out alongside me, his hand resting possessively on my stomach.
“Thank you,” he says quietly. “I don't know if I've said that enough. But thank you for having our child, for coming to find me, for letting me be in their life and yours. I promise you, I don't take it for granted.”
I shift forward slightly, closing the distance between us, and press a soft kiss to his lips. “Thank you for wanting this. Us.”
We kiss for another moment, soft and languorous. As if we have all the time in the world.
Then he moves back, tucking my hair behind my ears. “I’m not…” he starts, then stops. He sucks in a breath, and starts again, “I’m not asking for anything. I know we should probably take this slow. But can I…can I stay here tonight? Can I hold you? Both of you?”
Tears threaten the backs of my eyes as I bite my lip and nod.
“I’d like that a lot.”
When I wake up the next morning, Brady is gone. But the pillow where his head lay next to mine still has an indent, and the faintest scent of him remains. I sit up, blinking tiredly, and look at my phone to see the time.
My jaw drops. “It's nine thirty?”
I don't think I've slept in this late in ages. Now it makes sense that Brady's not here, I think he said something about needing to be at the stadium early today.
I drag myself out of bed and into the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face. Last night was unexpected, to say the least. I don't fully understand what gave me the courage to kiss him at dinner, but I'm so incredibly glad that I did.
As I drift into the kitchen, I spy a folded piece of paper propped up against an empty coffee cup with my name scrawled on it.
Sage,
Hope I didn’t wake you when I left. It was hard to get up and leave your side, but knowing I would be coming home to you, and be able to kiss you hello, made it easier.
I want to take you out tonight. Our first date.
See you soon, little mama.
Brady
I reread the note at least three times, my smile growing wider every time. A date with Brady? Like a real, romantic date? Yes. Please.
Of course, my anticipation for whatever he has planned makes the day go by interminably slow.
I spend over an hour on the phone with Fiona, filling her in on the change in my relationship status.
Together we debate outfit choices before deciding it’s time for me to hit up some stores and find something more flattering for my changing body.
That conversation leads to an impromptu shopping trip in Westport, the town where the closest maternity clothing store is located.
Eventually, I’m back at the apartment with several bags of clothing full of pants with elastic waistbands and tops with flowing silhouettes.
Brady texts me sometime in the afternoon.
brADY: Hey hurricane. Our baby is the size of a banana this week. Cool huh? I’ll be home around 5 to pick you up. See you then.
SAGE: Can’t wait. Where are we going?
brADY: It’s a surprise.
By the time he gets home, I’ve been dressed and waiting impatiently for him for about ten minutes. To distract from my nerves, I’ve chugged several glasses of water, which, of course, made me have to pee twice. Both times I panicked that he’d arrive while I was in the bathroom.
But every ounce of impatience or nerves or discomfort fades away the second he steps through the door, wearing dark jeans and a crisp light grey button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
“That should be illegal,” I murmur under my breath as he strides in, dropping his keys on the counter as he quickly covers the distance between us.
He sweeps me into his arms, bending me slightly backward before lowering his face to mine. My eyes flutter closed in anticipation of a kiss that doesn’t come.
“What should be illegal?”
I blink up at him. “Huh?”
He smirks. “You said something should be illegal, I'm just wondering what that is.”
I lift my hand from his shoulder, fully confident in his hold on me, and wave it at him. “This. You. The rolled-up sleeves. All of it.”
He chuckles and finally pecks a far-too-brief kiss to my lips, then straightens us both. “Got it.”
Grabbing the front of his shirt, I drag him back in close for a longer kiss. Why did I deny this for so long? I whimper when his hand tunnels into my hair, the slight tug both painful and delicious.
Brady makes a rumbling noise against my lips, his fingers digging into the side of my hip. Then he pushes away. “We’re never gonna make it out of here if I keep kissing you.”
“I’d be okay with that,” I reply somewhat breathlessly. “Date night at home?”
He shakes his head. “Nope. I’m taking you out tonight.” Stepping back, he holds out a hand for mine. “Ready?”
I take his hand and give him a nod. Threading my arm through his, he leads me out of the apartment, locking the door behind us. In the elevator, he tucks me under his arm, and kisses the top of my head.
“It feels really good to be able to touch you like this,” he says quietly as we descend to the ground floor. I simply squeeze the arm that’s wrapped around him even tighter in response.
After a short drive, Brady pulls up in front of an adorable log cabin style restaurant called the Creekside Pub. As we get out of the car, I hear the sound of running water and look at Brady.
He reads the question on my face and grins. “That’s Cedar Creek. This place is set right next to it.”
“Huh,” I say in surprise. “I assumed the town was named after an actual creek, but I haven’t had a chance to explore enough to find it.”
Brady nods. “It’s on the other side of town from where my place is, but there’s a nice park with walking trails. I’ll take you sometime.”
He opens the door to the restaurant, and my mouth starts to salivate with all the enticing aromas in the air. The soft murmur of conversations mingles with the clink of cutlery. Warm lighting spills across reclaimed wood beams and the roughly hewn logs of the walls.
It’s rustic, charming, and absolutely perfect.
“Hello, welcome to the Creekside Pub. Do you have a reservation?” A woman with a welcoming smile greets us as we walk up to the host stand.
“Yes, under Dixon, for two. And I requested a window table, if possible, so we can see the view?”
“Right this way.”
I take his hand and let him lead me through the restaurant to a table tucked in a corner with a stunning view of the creek and the forest beyond.
“This place is incredible, how did you find it?” I ask once the hostess has left, promising our server will be by in a moment.
“You said you were craving fish and chips the other day,” he says casually, “So I asked the guys where the best place was for it, and they suggested the pub.”
It takes me a second to figure out what he’s talking about. When I do, I’m shocked. I’d made that comment on the phone to Fiona, in passing, the day before our joint grocery shopping trip. He was in the room and must have overheard me.
And he remembered?
“Brady,” I say, reaching over the table and taking his hand. “That is…” I’m at a loss for words. Or rather, there are so many words, I don’t know which one to pick. Thoughtful? Kind? Romantic? All of the above…
“Are you starting to believe it now?”
“Believe what?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
“That I’ll do just about anything to make you smile like you are right now.” He kisses my knuckles before resting our hands back down on the table.
My answer comes easily as I stare into his eyes. “Yes. I am.”