Chapter 18
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
Charli
I’m completely spent by the time I get home on Wednesday night.
My schedule was packed, thanks to bookings I’ve had before I found out I was pregnant, and now I realize I need to give myself a little more time between clients to go to the restroom, grab something to eat and drink, and just rest my feet for a few minutes.
Right now I book them back-to-back, but if I schedule them out fifteen or thirty minutes apart, I’ll be able to take my time and do what I need to do between clients.
That’ll be exceptionally necessary as I progress through my pregnancy, and something Quinn mentioned early this morning.
You know, this morning when he showed up at my door and delivered crackers and water to my bedside table? He’s done that three mornings in a row, and while I want to be annoyed at his sudden appearance in my doorway like clockwork, I’m a little grateful.
Which pisses me off even more.
I don’t want to rely on him, but I do admit having him here is nice.
Makes no sense, right? Because it sure as hell isn’t making much sense to me. I feel like I’m pushing him away yet, at the same time, begging him to stay. It’s a strong push and pull, a battle in my head I’m working through.
Yes, I want to remain independent and do things myself, but I recognize the assistance he’s offering me, even if it’s something small, like bringing water and crackers to me after I throw up.
Fortunately, my morning sickness has been contained to the early morning hours and doesn’t rear its ugly head any other time of day.
If I start to feel queasy, I know I need to take a short break and put some food in my belly.
Baby seems to be happy with that little burst of nutrients, even if it’s in the form of a peanut butter cracker.
The hardest part through all of this isn’t accepting help from Quinn, however.
It’s keeping this secret from my family.
I want to tell them, but I’m just not ready.
I told Quinn on Monday I wanted to wait until our first OB appointment, which isn’t until I’m eight weeks.
So, while it’s been difficult not to share my news with those I’m closest to, I can wait another two and a half weeks before spilling it.
Just as I open my fridge to figure out what I’m going to eat for dinner, there’s a knock at my door.
My brothers would just walk in, so I know it’s not them.
Sommer would too, and while I’d think Quinn would as well, something tells me it’s him.
A quick peek through the peephole confirms my suspicions.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” I ask as I pull the door open.
He smiles that sexy little grin of his and holds up two bags. “Special delivery.”
I step back, granting him entrance. “But I didn’t order anything,” I state, closing the door behind him.
“No, but the baby did.” He flashes me a cheeky grin that makes my core clench.
“Uhh, he did?”
“She did, yes.”
“She?”
He nods before continuing on to the kitchen. “It’s a girl. I can feel it.”
I roll my eyes, but my heart pounds like a snare drum in my chest.
A girl? I mean, I will be equally as happy to have a son, but the thought of a baby girl, wrapped in pink and bows makes me a bit giddy.
“Okay, so it’s a little weird you think your child somehow ordered whatever is in that bag,” I argue as I follow behind him, feigning annoyance, but secretly loving the fact he thought about the baby.
He starts removing items from the first bag, placing them on my counter. “Healthy snacks.”
I look down at the food and feel my heart skip a beat.
“All of these are OB approved as a great source of vitamins and whatnot while pregnant. Bananas, cottage cheese, Greek yogurt, which I know you’re not a fan of, but if you add berries to it, the website said it’s a double plus.
” He pulls a small container of blueberries and raspberries from the bag and sets them aside.
“Oh, and hard-boiled eggs. The internet says the choline is great for the baby’s brain development. ”
All I can do is stand here and blink, shocked by what he’s saying.
He snaps in front of my face. “You okay?”
“You’ve done research?” I find myself asking, referring to his obvious internet browsing.
“Of course,” he replies, a light blush creeping up his cheeks. “I mean, I don’t know anything about pregnancy or babies, so I decided to start reading.”
“When?”
“When what?” he asks, confused.
“When did you start your research.”
The blush deepens, making his whole face dark red. He looks embarrassed as he confesses, “Uhh, Saturday night. After you left.”
Holy shit, after I left?
Clearing the sudden onslaught of emotions from my throat, I return my attention to the food on the counter. All healthy snacks for me and the baby. Doing the best I can to ignore the burn of tears in my eyes, I glance to the second bag. “What’s that?”
He smiles and reaches for the other bag.
“Well, I know you love your sweets too, so I also brought a few not-so-healthy snacks. Berry muffins from the bakery inside the grocery store, caramel M&Ms, those strawberry cream wafer cookies you love,” he says, pulling all the items out and setting them on the counter.
A single tear slides down my cheek.
“Shit, Charli, I’m sorry. Don’t cry,” he insists, panic setting in.
He pushes all the snacks to the side and mutters a curse under his breath.
“I shouldn’t have overstepped, but I just wanted to do something.
You have all the hard work of carrying and growing a baby, changing your diet and schedule, and I’m just…
here. I can’t do anything to help, and, dammit, that bothers me,” he blurts out quickly, running his hand through his hair.
“It shouldn’t be only you making the sacrifices for our child. ”
I reach out and place my palm against his wrist, gently pulling his hand down from his hair. “Thank you, Quinn.” I glance to the food on the counter. “For all of it.”
He visibly relaxes, and that’s when I realize how incredibly worried he was about overstepping.
“I appreciate you bringing me all of this. Or should I say, the baby appreciates the order,” I state, choosing the lighter side of the conversation.
He gives me a crooked grin. “What baby wants, baby gets.”
I shudder at his words, at the sexually laced meaning he didn’t even offer, and suddenly my panties become soaked. “Baby says thank you.”
His hand moves forward but stops before he can make contact with my abdomen. His dark eyes hold a mixture of indecision and wonder, and I know what he’s asking permission to do.
Nodding, I offer a soft, “Yes.”
What happens next is like a punch to the feels and my libido.
Quinn drops to his knees in front of me, wraps his hands around my waist, and gently presses his lips to my lower stomach.
Since I’m wearing leggings, I feel the pressure of his lips, and the heat of his breath conjures up all sorts of inappropriate flashbacks, and I’m suddenly transported back to the night I felt his tongue on my clit for the first time.
It takes every ounce of self-control I possess not to slide my hands into his hair and spread my legs.
“Don’t give your mama too much trouble, little one,” he says, pressing a second kiss to my belly before slowly standing up. “If you need anything else, text me,” he adds, clearly insinuating it’s time for him to leave.
I need an orgasm, but I don’t think that’s on the menu…
“I will,” I reply with a wooden, hurried nod.
“Want me to put these away?” he asks, gesturing toward the snacks he brought.
“No, I got it.”
He nods in understanding. “All right, well, I’ll see you in the morning.”
I open my mouth to tell him he doesn’t need to come over, but I know it’ll fall on deaf ears.
Every morning his timing is impeccable too, because I seem to have just finished up my own early morning workout.
If you consider vomiting a workout. Considering it makes me all sweaty and tired, I’d classify it as such.
I think about how easy it would be for me to take a package of peanut butter crackers and a glass of water to bed with me, but then I think about how much he wants to be a part of this whole experience, and since all he can really do is sit back, watch, and maybe take care of me and the baby, I don’t feel like I can deny him that.
No, I know I can’t.
“Thanks, again,” I say, standing at the doorway as he walks down my front steps. “Hey, where’s your truck?” I ask, noticing it’s not parked in my driveway or on the street.
“I figured it would be better for me to walk over here. You know, since no one knows about…us.”
My breath hitches in my throat, and I quickly clear the congestion away. “Makes sense.”
He’s not talking about us us. He’s referring to the us that resulted in a baby.
Get your mind out of the gutter, Charli.
“Night,” I reply, offering a wave as he heads toward his home.
“Good night, Charli.”
With that, I close the door and lean against it.
My heart is racing and my mind is spinning.
I’m imagining things I shouldn’t. Quinn and I aren’t in a relationship, and for the first time since I started looking at him as a man—and not my younger brother’s best friend—I’m entertaining ideas that aren’t on the menu.
We’re going to co-parent.
That’s it.
The sooner my heart realizes that, the better off we’ll all be.
“Charli!”
I smile as I approach the bar, happy to see Lizzie back there. “Hey, Lizzie,” I reply, climbing up on the footrest of the barstool and reaching over the bar to give her a hug.
“It feels like forever since I’ve seen you! Have you been hiding from me?” she teases.