Chapter 19 #2
I nod, finally able to pull away some, but Zaid’s hand on the back of my neck keeps me from going far. ‘Go. I’m fine. I’m done being a crybaby.’
His touch shifts from my neck to my jaw, his thumb brushing over my cheekbone as he levels me with a knowing stare. ‘You cried over a dog food ad last night while watching Taskmaster reruns. I can’t say I believe you.’
‘Look, it was a very cute shelter puppy. It would have made anyone emotional,’ I huff. ‘Now, go.’ This time, I give him a half-assed push toward the door, where Sami’s knocking again.
He finally lets go, though he pauses to give me an assessing once-over that leaves my cheeks warm.
‘I’ll be back later tonight,’ he says. ‘Don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone.’
Not sure how much trouble I can get into on a Wednesday night in a mostly empty campground near the circuit with some of the best security in the world, but I still give him a cheeky smile. ‘No promises.’
——
There’s nothing quite like the special hell of trying to sleep when you have the worst heartburn known to man.
‘I love you with my entire being,’ I mumble to my bump as I throw back the duvet and plant my feet on the floor. ‘But you are making me just a little bit miserable.’
I stand and then shuffle my way out of my bedroom, heading to the kitchen for the only thing that takes the edge off whenever my antacids aren’t strong enough.
The under-cabinet lighting provides the necessary illumination to guide me to the freezer, and I find what I need before settling back against the counter.
I’m three bites into one of the pints of sour cherry gelato when the door to Zaid’s bedroom eases open, and I wave to him with my spoon.
‘Ava?’ he says as he steps out – and dear god, the man’s only wearing boxers.
In contrast, I’m wearing bright pink sleep shorts and a Celine Dion T-shirt I’ve had since college, because none of my cute pajamas fit any more, and I’ve been too busy – okay, lazy – to go shopping for more.
It’s probably for the best that I look a little ratty, because the lack of confidence is keeping me from marching over and running my fingers down the ridges of his abs.
I can’t imagine he’d want the gremlin with her hair sitting like a nest on the top of her head and currently wolfing down gelato to touch him.
‘What are you doing up?’ he asks, voice scratchy from sleep.
It takes a moment before I can stop staring at just how low his waistband is sitting and reply. ‘Needed a dose of heartburn medicine,’ I finally say, lifting the tub of gelato as evidence. ‘Sorry if I woke you.’
He shakes his head, dismissing my apology. ‘Just wanted to make sure you were okay.’
‘Perfectly fine, except for my esophagus being on fire.’
He pauses, considering something as he drags a hand through his hair, and fuck if that isn’t the best and worst and sexiest thing he could have done. I fear the gelato I’m holding is going to melt in five seconds flat after how hot he’s made me with one thoughtless move. Absolute bastard.
‘Come sleep with me,’ he declares.
I almost choke on a chunk of cherry. ‘Excuse me?’
‘I have an adjustable bed,’ he explains, either ignoring or not picking up on my distress. ‘Keeping your upper body elevated should help with the heartburn, so you’ll sleep in my room instead.’
‘Absolutely not,’ I blurt, not even considering his offer. ‘You won’t catch me kicking an elite athlete out of his bed. I don’t want you sleeping on an unfamiliar mattress that makes you get a crick in your neck and then you can’t race.’
‘I never said you’d be kicking me out.’
I nearly drop the spoon. ‘Oh.’
‘It’s a king bed,’ he goes on, again so nonchalant that he really must not hear my heart racing. ‘Each side has its own controls, so sharing isn’t a problem.’
Maybe not to him, but if I roll over in the middle of the night and accidentally make contact with any part of what he currently has on display, I’m going to be in deep trouble.
‘I’m fine,’ I rush to say. ‘Maybe tomorrow night if it’s still bad then.’
But Zaid levels me with a stern stare. ‘Ava. Come on. It’ll make you feel better. And you need to rest.’
I could fight him on it, but I get the feeling he’d just scoop me up and dump me in his bed.
And since I need to maintain the least possible contact with him so I don’t lose my mind, I shove one more spoonful of gelato into my mouth, put the container back in the freezer, and follow him into his bedroom.
His room is only slightly bigger than mine, done up in the same calming neutrals, everything luxe and nondescript.
I wait as he grabs a remote and hits a button to raise the head of my side of the bed, then I climb under the duvet and attempt to make myself comfortable on my left side.
It leaves me facing him in the darkness, but thankfully the bed’s big enough that I can’t make out too much of him over there.
The only bad part is that the sheets smell like him, soft oud and a hint of lavender, and that is not doing anything to help my current state.
‘Well, good night,’ I say. ‘Thanks for letting me steal the other side of your bed.’
Zaid’s soft chuckle makes me press my knees together a little tighter. ‘It’s yours anytime you’d like. Sweet dreams.’
I fear my dreams are going to be less of the sweet variety and more of the R-rated kind, but a girl can hope.
I burrow down farther under the covers, then do my best to lie still so I don’t disturb him.
Tomorrow’s only media day, so it’s not like he has to drive, but I still worry.
We’re fifteen races away from him being able to lift that eighth championship trophy and I’ll do everything in my power to make sure it happens.
That would normally mean not frantically gripping his shoulder five minutes later, but I can’t help it – because that’s when I feel it. It’s like fizzy bubbles low in my stomach, a little butterfly fluttering, something I’ve not quite felt before. It’s subtle, but I’m certain I know what it is.
‘Zaid,’ I whisper, like this is a nature documentary and I’m afraid of scaring off the wildlife. ‘I think – I think the baby just moved.’
He, however, doesn’t share in that fear, if the way he immediately shifts toward me is any indication, and in the soft light coming in through the bedroom’s small window, I see the lifted corners of his mouth. ‘Really?’
I nod, words failing me as my eyes well with happy tears, a watery laugh escaping when I feel it again. This baby is . . . real. Obviously I knew that before from all the tests and seeing her on ultrasound images, but to feel her? It’s an entirely new reality opening up to me.
‘Oh god, I can’t believe I’m crying again,’ I sniffle, covering my face with one hand while my other rubs over my bump, as if that will get her to keep moving. I never want her to stop. ‘I’m just – I’m just really happy.’
‘Come here, princess.’
Zaid’s wrapping me in his arms before I can think to avoid the contact, but the warmth of his body and the ease with which he tucks me against his chest have me melting like a chocolate bar in the desert.
‘Can I?’ he asks, and it takes me a moment to realize his hand is hovering over my bump, waiting for my permission.
‘I don’t know if you’ll be able to feel anything, but yeah.’ I gently wrap my fingers around his wrist and guide his hand down until his palm is splayed across my belly. ‘And you can talk to her if you want. Apparently she’s starting to hear things.’
I talk to her constantly when he’s not around, narrating everything I’m doing as if she’s my tiny, clueless friend, but I’m not about to confess that entirely-too-embarrassing tidbit.
Thankfully, he doesn’t need any encouragement, because he pulls back and dips down until he’s eye level with my abdomen, almost as if he’s been waiting to do this.
‘Hi, ya hayati,’ he says to my T-shirt-covered bump, hand smoothing over it in slow circles. ‘It’s your baba. I can’t wait to meet you.’