Chapter 28 #2
“It’s haunted. Maybe by tuberculosis.” Wells squinted at the heavy, paint-covered wood. “And covered in lead paint.”
Allison’s arms fell in exasperation. “It’s aesthetic.”
“It’s not safe,” he said, wandering around the rickety crib that had been put together upstairs. “And how did you get this up here? Please tell me you had the store deliver it.”
“It’s not that heavy.”
“You carried this?” Wells spun around in horror.
“I had them carry it. But I put it together.”
He wiped a hand over his face, at his limit with her. “You inhaled chipped paint from this?” He pointed to a rocking chair. “Is this new too?”
Allison clapped with hearts in her eyes. “Isn’t it darling?”
He looked at it skeptically. It looked like it was designed exclusively to pinch a crawling baby’s finger.
“I don’t like it. It’s not safe to get things secondhand,” he said, frowning at her.
“Some of us like things with a little bit of love on them,” Allison said protectively, her hand on her lower back now. “And I made sure it passes all safety standards.”
“I still don’t like it,” he grumbled.
“Let me show you the bassinet that I got.”
Wells threw his head back, exhausted. “Oh god, it’s probably haunted too.”
She whipped around, presumably to scold him, but her arms flailed as she wobbled, off balance. She flailed into the side of the wall, catching herself on the trim as Wells dove for her.
“Got it, I got it,” she reassured him as she stood upright.
“Jesus Christ.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. He’d never sleep a wink worrying about her in this house. She was a klutz at the best of times, but now?
Her growing, nearly six-month bump made her off-balance.
Wells glared at the steep stairs and the death-trap tub as they walked by the bathroom.
She’d started talking about the bassinet beside the bed and he imagined one terrible scenario of her or the baby getting hurt. One after another.
In a row.
Speeding up.
“You’re moving in with me,” he said firmly, interrupting some point she was making about the bassinet. A fierce, feral need to protect her rocketed through his entire body.
“No, we talked about this,” she said, fanning herself with the portable fan that had been permanently attached to her hand for the last four weeks. Summer in Pennsylvania was humid and hot, and this was their worst one in years. The small A/C in the window of her bedroom could barely keep up.
“I don’t like you staying here. It’s hot in here,” he said, wiping his forehead, “and I don’t like you using the steep steps or the tub when you’re so off-balance.”
“No.”
“Allison,” he growled.
“Wellesley.” She fisted her hands on her hips.
He puffed, standing up to the full breadth of his full height. “I am insisting you move in with me until after the baby is born.”
“I like my things.”
“I like you being safe,” he said, his eyes scanning her face. She was muleheaded, like he was. But she was kind, and cared about others more than herself.
If he admitted he’d had nightmares, maybe. Maybe that would do it.
Fine. You’ll have your pound of emotional flesh, woman.
He gulped. “It’s hard for me to sleep at night knowing you’re here. If something were to happen to you, how would I know?”
He’d woken up in a panic last night. She’d slept here and he’d hated it.
They’d walked a thin line in the last four weeks—waking up beside each other some mornings, having sex here and there—but always returning to their separate spaces.
“You practically live at my house half the time anyway. You have a toothbrush there.”
Allison fussed with the bassinet. “I used a guest toothbrush once.”
“I would like you to have a toothbrush at my place,” he said, grabbing her hand so she’d look at him.
The wariness in her eyes made him realize the stupidity of that statement.
That was what men said to people they wanted to be in a relationship with.
That they might even love.
“Until the baby comes. A dedicated toothbrush for the mother of my child,” he said, dropping her hand and catching his breath.
She walked out of the room, and he followed her. “Think about the big shower. You love the shower.”
“Oh,” she murmured with longing as she moved the fan over her face in the boiling hallway. “I do. I do love the big shower.”
“And there are no steps, scary or otherwise.”
She bit her lip, thinking.
No wait, that’s her guilty face.
He snapped. “I knew it. You almost fell, didn’t you?”
“Stumbling is not falling,” she countered quickly, pointing her finger at him, and then walked down the steps. “I can walk down these perfectly fine.”
“Use the handrail,” he ordered.
“I do not need a hand—” she said over her shoulder, but then flailed.
“The handrail, for the love of all that is Shortcake, Allison,” he pleaded.
She acquiesced and gripped the handrail.
“You love my A/C,” he added as they walked into the kitchen.
“I would form a monogamous, legal relationship with your A/C,” she sighed, opening her freezer and standing in front of it.
“Anyone would be sweating buckets here.”
“I’m glowing,” she growled, scowling at him.
“So beautifully.” He cupped her pretty, flushed cheeks. “Please,” he said finally, his heart aching. “Please, so I don’t worry.”
She gulped as her eyes searched his. He loved the sea-glass green of them.
She closed the freezer, sighing. “Fine,”
“And I’m getting you another crib.”
She stepped back, exasperated. “In our contract, it said you provide your nursery, and I provide mine.”
“I knew I should have added a review clause.” He’d been dick-drunk and should have argued for so many things.
Next time. He gulped, soaking up the view of her in her tiny shorts and clinging tank top and bra that left very little to the imagination.
Fucking delicious is what she looks like.
“Tomorrow, you move in.” He’d said it like an order, but there was no ordering her around unless she wanted it.
There was a twinkle in her eye. “It’ll take me that long to figure out how many ceramic kittens I’m bringing.”
“No kittens,” he said but smiled despite himself.
“Then I’m not coming.” She pouted.
His thumb found her bottom lip, tugging it down. “Three kittens,” he said, placing a quick kiss there.
Fuck, that felt good.
As he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck to steal another one, she murmured, “Four.”
“Two, final offer.”
“Five it is.”
He playfully squeezed her ass which only made her laugh harder as he planted a kiss on her neck for good measure.
A few minutes later, he forced himself out of her living room, walking down his long drive in the dusky haze.
With each crunch on the gravel, a new vision came to him—Allison falling, getting hurt, needing him, heat stroke, dizziness, stumbling, because, god love her, she had three left feet.
Before he knew it, his feet had turned him around, and he was running back to her front door at full tilt.
She was sleeping in his house tonight.
He bounded up the porch steps and threw open her door, startling her on the couch.
“Bring as many kittens as you want, but you’re coming with me. Tonight,” he said, huffing in her living room in a panic.
“Aww.” Allison’s smile was sympathetic as she brushed her soft fingers against his cheek. “You’re sweet under all that bluster, aren’t you?”
He leaned into her touch briefly, letting his eyes close, pretending he was just catching his breath.
“I’ll get the really big plastic tote then,” she said, tugging on the ends of his mustache.
God help him, he wasn’t even mad.