Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
TOBIAS
Eva led the way inside her condo. I’d expected furniture. Maybe a houseplant. Maybe boxes. Instead, the space was empty save for an air mattress in the living room next to the gas fireplace.
“Where’s your stuff?” I asked as she flipped on the lights.
“Most of it’s in London. The couch and a few other furniture items were sold because the flat I’m renting isn’t all that big.”
“How long has it all been gone?”
She shrugged and unzipped her coat. “Two weeks?”
I blinked. She’d been sleeping on an air mattress for two weeks with one more to go. “Why didn’t your company put you up in a hotel?”
“I didn’t ask. And I don’t mind the air mattress.”
That was a lie. Eva’s voice was too bright. This woman loved a comfortable bed. In college, she’d insisted we stay at her place most nights because her pillow-top mattress had been softer than mine .
The idea of her sleeping on the floor, living like a transient, set my teeth on edge. She couldn’t stay here. Not like this.
“You should stay in my guest bedroom this week.” The offer flew out of my mouth, but I didn’t hate it. In fact, it wasn’t a horrible idea. “That will give us a chance to talk. And the mattress in my guest bedroom is a good one.”
“No, that’s okay. I don’t want to put you out.”
“It’s a memory foam.”
She glanced at the air mattress and grimaced. “I like memory foam.”
“Go pack. I insist.”
“I forgot how stubborn you are.”
“No, you didn’t.” I chuckled. “You just forgot that you liked it.”
She rolled her eyes. “You have me mistaken for one of your other ex-girlfriends.”
Never. There was no mistaking Eva for any other woman. Not that there’d been many. The only woman I’d spent time with lately was Chelsea, and our casual hookups when she was passing through town were far from serious. And I hadn’t seen her in months.
“What’s it gonna be, Williams? Air mattress or memory foam?”
“Fine. You win. I’ll take your guest bed,” she said, nodding to her setup on the floor. “But only because that thing has a slow leak and my back is starting to hurt.”
“Would you like me to roll that up while you get your stuff?”
“Tonight?”
I shrugged. “Might as well.”
“Okay. I’ll get its case.”
She scurried away and I toed off my shoes so I wouldn’t drag snow clumps over the hardwood floors. Then I started with the sleeping bag. The scent of Eva’s favorite vanilla bean lotion caught my nose as I folded it into a tight roll.
After our breakup, I’d found a bottle of that lotion in my bathroom. It had taken me a year to toss it out. Then our night together six weeks ago, I’d caught that scent and the next words out of my mouth had been an invitation.
Come home with me.
I hadn’t asked. Just another insistence.
And after we’d fucked the first time, against a wall because neither of us had been able to wait, I’d carried her to my bed where I’d let that scent soak into my sheets.
Christ, one whiff and I was hard. A cold shower would be in order when I got home. With a clenched jaw, I tied the straps on the bundled sleeping bag.
Eva came out and tossed me the case for the air mattress, and less than five minutes later, she rolled out a suitcase. “Want some help?”
“No, I’ve got this.” The last of the air was rushing out of the mattress’s vent as I folded it into sections. “Just grab the rest of your stuff.”
“Oh, this is it.”
A single suitcase and a backpack over her shoulder. That grated as hard as the empty apartment. The Eva I’d known hadn’t gone anywhere without a bagful of books and a purse so large it could double as a pillowcase.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.
“Is this what your life has been like? Empty apartment to empty apartment?”
“It’s only empty because I’m in transition.”
“How often do you transition?”
“Depends.” She lifted a shoulder. “Once or twice a year. Sometimes more. Sometimes less.”
So she’d spend one or two months a year living with barren walls and a handful of wardrobe pieces. Why did she even bother unpacking? Did this air mattress go with her? Or did she just buy a new one at every transition?
This lifestyle of hers sank into my skin like a rash. This wasn’t what I wanted for her. But I guess that didn’t matter. This was the life she’d wanted for herself. I’d learned years ago that I had no say.
But where this baby was concerned... something had to give.
“I don’t mind, Tobias,” she said as I began to shove the folded mattress into the case. “I’m not home much while I’m on a project.”
“Home?” There was a snark to my voice.
Eva’s eyes narrowed. “Home can have different meanings to different people. To me, it’s not four walls. It’s not a piece of land or a town or a state.”
“Then where is home?”
“I guess... I’ve carried it with me.” She pressed a hand to her heart. “That’s enough for me.”
“Except it isn’t just you anymore.”
Eva raised her chin. “You act like I’m homeless. I’m moving. People move for their jobs. My job means that I can pay for my dad’s home. And I like my job. Why is that so wrong?”
“It’s not. Let’s... forget it.” I sighed, then finished packing up the air mattress, carrying it, her sleeping bag and pillow to the door. “I’m just trying to wrap my head around this, Eva.”
“So am I.” She gave me a sad smile. “We can figure out the logistics. But maybe me coming to stay is a bad idea. I can get a hotel.”
“No.” I shook my head. If I actually thought she’d go to a hotel, I might let this go. But she was just as stubborn as I was, and after I left, she’d unroll this air mattress. “Stay with me. Please.”
“Only because you have the memory foam.”
“And more than one pillow.” I laughed and picked up her suitcase. Pillows, she’d once told me, were as important as the mattress.
“Now you’re just bragging,” she teased.
“Lead the way.” I managed to carry everything in one trip to my truck, then waited for her to lock up her condo before we headed across town and down the quiet roads to my house.
Home .
Wasn’t a home a place where you could escape? Where you could find peace? Maybe she didn’t need four walls to feel at home, but as I pulled into my garage, weight left my shoulders.
It was the reason I’d become an architect. Designing houses wasn’t simply making them aesthetically pleasing. It was about creating a sanctuary. It was about giving others the foundation where they could grow roots that ran as deeply as my own.
I hit the button to the second stall and climbed out, waving Eva inside. When her car was parked, I retrieved her suitcase and hauled it inside. “Are you hungry?”
“Sure.” She shrugged. “I’m an expert on takeout. Want me to order us something?”
“Or I can cook.”
“You’re letting me stay. I’ll get dinner tonight.”
“Okay.” I nodded and watched as she scrolled through her phone, her fingers flying over the screen.
She didn’t ask what I wanted to eat. She didn’t have to.
Eva knew I hated chili. She knew I preferred cooked vegetables to raw. She knew that I drank water with every meal and that I kept homemade buttermilk ranch in the fridge because I always picked it over ketchup .
She knew me, better than anyone.
I’d missed the familiarity and how easy it was to be around her.
“Want something to drink?” I asked, opening the fridge.
“Water’s fine.”
I filled two glasses, mine with ice and hers without because it bothered her teeth. Then we settled in the living room on opposite ends of the couch. “It feels like days, not hours, since you came over.”
She laughed, tucking her legs beneath her in the cushion. “I was just thinking that same thing.”
Next to her on an end table was a digital frame. Eva picked it up, watching as the photos changed.
“Mom gave me that for Christmas yesterday.” I watched past her shoulder, waiting until...
Eva gasped. “She put one of us in here?”
It was a photo Mom had taken years ago. One she’d had framed in her office for a few years. I suspected it was still in a drawer, tucked away for safekeeping. Mom had never given up hope that Eva would find her way home.
In the picture, Eva and I were lying on the couch in Mom and Dad’s old house. I was asleep on my stomach, wearing only a pair of shorts. Eva was asleep on my naked back. My mouth was open. Her hair was spread over my shoulders and a strand had stuck to her lips.
It shouldn’t have been comfortable, but I’d lost track of the times we’d slept like that. Totally content as long as we had each other.
“We look so... young.” A smile lit up her face, but like the photo, it was gone too soon.
The next shot was of Heath and me on the ski hill a few winters ago. It was a selfie he’d insisted on taking on the chair lift. The next was a picture from last year’s Christmas party. I stood beside Dad, each of us with a tumbler of whisky in our hands.
Eva and I watched the pictures rotate the full loop until the one of us returned. She ran her finger across the frame.
A flash of headlights forced us both from the couch. She set down the frame as I went to the door to meet the delivery driver.
“Burritos?” I asked, peeking inside the bag. “You don’t like burritos.”
“Actually, I do like them.” She took a seat at the island, unwrapping the foil from her dinner while I sat beside her and did the same.
“Since when?”
“I lived in San Antonio for about five months. Around the corner from my rental was this burrito place. One night I got home late from work and there was nothing in the fridge. I didn’t want to wait for pizza so I decided one burrito wouldn’t kill me.”
I laughed. “Obviously it didn’t.”
“I got it with queso. Now...” She lifted her burrito and took a huge bite, moaning as she chewed. “I love queso.”
It was erotic, watching her eyes fall shut. There was a drop of melted cheese on the corner of her mouth. I lifted a hand, ready to wipe it away, then remembered that she was no longer mine. So I slid a napkin over and focused on my own meal.
When the wrappers were wadded up and tossed in the trash, Eva yawned. “I think I’m going to crash.”
“I’ll show you to your room.” I collected her suitcase from the mudroom, then headed to the opposite end of the house, in the bedroom farthest from my own.
It seemed safer to put the bulk of my four-thousand square feet between us .
“Thanks for this,” she said as I set the suitcase down inside the door.
“No problem. Can I get you anything?”
“This looks perfect.” She glanced around the room, her eyes landing on the bed.
The comforter was a shade of deep green, much like the flecks in her hazel eyes. The sleigh-style frame was a rich brown close to the color of her hair. And if I stripped her out of those clothes, her skin would be the same alabaster as the walls.
We’d been together so many times it was like second nature to picture her on the bed. I could hear the hitch in her breath when I pushed inside her body. I could taste the sweetness of her tongue. I could feel her orgasm pulsing around my flesh. One inhale of her vanilla scent and my cock twitched.
Shit . I had to get the fuck out of this room and far away from this, or any, bed. “I’ll let you get some sleep.”
But before I could head to my primary suite for that cold shower, Eva’s hand shot out, her fingers wrapping around my elbow. “Tobias?”
“Yeah?” My gaze fixed on her mouth.
“Good night.” She stepped closer, wrapping her arms around my waist.
My arms encircled her immediately, pulling her close and burying my nose in her hair. Holding her was another automatic instinct.
I’d missed the way she fit against my frame. I’d missed her long hair threaded through my fingers. I’d missed the softness of her breasts and the tickle of her breath against my neck.
She sighed, sinking into my embrace. Then she leaned away, her eyes traveling up my neck and landing on my lips. Her mouth parted.
And that was the moment my resolve shattered.
I swept in, framed her face with my hands and sealed my mouth over hers. One sweep of my tongue across her bottom lip and she opened on a whimper.
Eva clung to me, her fingertips digging into my biceps as she rose up on her toes.
I slanted my mouth over hers, our tongues twisting in a kiss that should have been familiar. We’d kissed hundreds of times. Maybe thousands.
But there was desperation to this kiss. Even more desperation than had been there our night weeks ago. Every anxiety about what was to come, every worry and doubt, we poured into the moment.
I ached for her, and when my arousal dug into her hip, she pressed in deeper, the urgency growing. Until I reached between us, intending to flip the button on her jeans, but froze when my knuckles grazed her belly.
Eva tensed, her lips still pressed to mine.
This wasn’t a reckless trip down memory lane. This wasn’t two former lovers enjoying a night of passion. This wasn’t a man and woman giving in to an urge.
This wasn’t just about us anymore.
I tore my mouth away and took a step back, dragging a hand over my beard as I worked to regain my breath. “Sorry.”
“Me too.” She walked to the corner of the bed and put five feet between us.
“Night.” I stalked out of the room, pulling the door closed behind me. Then I jogged down the hallway, heading straight for my own bedroom.
My blood was on fire. My heart raced. I closed myself in the bathroom and turned on the shower. “Fuck.”
What were we doing? What was I doing?
Those questions ran over and over in my head as I stepped beneath the cold spray. Water streamed down my skin. A trickle ran down the bridge of my nose as my hand found my shaft and stroked. The release was quick and unsatisfying. My body craved hers, not my fist.
I wasn’t sure how long I stayed in the shower. Long enough to cool down. Then I toweled off and stepped in front of the mirror.
What am I doing?
Eva wasn’t going to give up her job. She’d made that perfectly clear. She’d also admitted today that she didn’t have a home.
Kids needed homes. They needed a resting place. They needed roots and routine.
I had all of those in spades.
Which meant if she didn’t change her mind, I wouldn’t have a choice. Once this baby was born, he or she was coming home to Montana.
I stared at my reflection, hating myself so much that I couldn’t hold my own gaze.
If Eva was going to fight for London and the next move and the next move, then I’d fight her for my child. And she’d hate me. She’d fucking hate me.
But my kid was worth the fight.
And I’d just drawn the battle lines with a kiss.