Chapter 18
Andi
Goddammit! I didn’t want to hurt him. I was watching for danger signs…rage, anger, anything that might mean I needed to get out fast. So I was looking closely enough to see his expression before he wiped it away.
It wasn’t anything scary. It was devastation.
He looked like I’d reached into his chest and ripped out that big heart of his.
What kind of man blurts out “Marry me” to someone he’s only spent a couple of days with?
“Kevin, I’m sorry. That sounded bad.” I reach to touch him but he shakes his head and I pull back my hand. “I just… I was stunned. That was completely unexpected.”
“Don’t worry about it. I don’t even know why I said it.” His voice is thick, like he’s pushing the words through cotton. He stares down at his interlaced hands.
“It’s a big red flag for somebody in my profession, Kev. Rushing into relationships really fast. Big red flag.”
He nods, stiff, still not looking at me. “I get it. Stupid idea. Forget I said anything.”
We sit side by side in silence for, god, what seems like forever. I’m not going to apologize again. I’ve heard too many stories about guys being manipulative, acting hurt to get women to apologize when really there’s nothing to apologize for.
But I don’t want to leave him like this, because…I don’t think he’s being manipulative. I think it was real pain I saw flash across his face. I’m not sure why, exactly, because he’s a smart guy. Surely he knows it would be silly for two new friends to all of a sudden get married because of an unexpected pregnancy. Dangerous idea. So we sit here, the living room darkening around us as the sun goes down outside his windows.
Finally he sucks in a deep breath and blows it out. Unlaces his hands and rests them on his knees. Twists just enough to look at me. “So, listen. Have you had dinner? You need to eat something. Let’s go get you some food.”
What?
But he’s right. I can’t blow off meals anymore. Doc said I’d probably feel better if I started eating small amounts more often.
So I nod. That would be a good, neutral, safe way for me to gauge where he really is with this. It’s going to take me some serious observation time—weeks, maybe months—before I know how much to trust him. “You know what sounds good?”
He says nothing. Just raises his brows, waiting for me to go on.
“You ever get dinner from the hot bar at Ahmed’s Market?” His apartment is only a three- or four-block walk from there. “I could do with some air and some exercise.”
“Let’s go, then.” He doesn’t touch me as he stands and moves toward the door. Scoops his wallet and keys off the counter and shoves them in his pocket. “Oh.”
When I turn to see what he’s looking at, my eyes find a somewhat droopy bouquet in a tumbler of water on the kitchen side of the counter.
He rolls his eyes, his embarrassment plain. “I got you some flowers.”
Oh my god. He’s breaking my freaking heart.
“Never mind.” He reaches past me to pull open the door.
We don’t talk much on the way to the grocery. The wind has picked up and there’s a chill in it. The leaves are in the first stages of turning color.
“You okay? Warm enough?” He looks over but still doesn’t touch me.
“I’m fine.” I miss our easiness already. A few days ago he would have nudged me with his elbow and teased me, saying something preposterous just so I’d laugh. Now…nothing.
At the market, Mr. Ahmed and his oldest daughter smile at us. “Andi! Good to see you. And who is your friend?”
I introduce them to Kevin who, as it turns out, has beautiful manners. He repeats their names, shakes their hands, and says he’s heard good things about the hot bar from me.
“Ah, well, enjoy! Maybe you will join us again soon,” they tell him, waving us toward the buffet.
The buffet startles Kevin out of his silence with me. He whistles at the two long tables, one with hot foods, one with cold. Ahmed’s always has a combination of traditional southern U.S. foods and foods from his native Pakistan.
I fill a plate with mostly vegetables and melon slices. Kevin piles his with every kind of meat on the bar. We pay and then settle at one of the little tables pushed up against the front windows.
“So you’ve had Pakistani food before?” I nibble a samosa and watch him dig into some kind of lamb dish.
“Nope. So this is perfect.” He closes his eyes as he chews, as if he’s memorizing the flavor. “Wonderful.”
“Perfect how?”
He blinks at me. “Uh. Well, I…try a few new things every week. See what I like and what I don’t.” He waves his refilled fork at me. “This is one for the Like column.”
“Interesting.” I turn my attention to a thick slice of watermelon. “Have you always done that?”
“Um, no. Just the last few months.” He seems done with talking then, shoving a big bite of bun kebab into his mouth, then dropping his gaze and busying himself poking at the other foods on his plate.
Why in the world would that topic be off-limits?
Maybe he’s still upset about me turning down his proposal.
***
Kevin
I am not going to lay out any more of my insecurities for her to see tonight.
And the last thing I want to think about right now—or, really, ever again—is Cheryl. Cheryl hadn’t exactly said, “Don’t you have any tastes of your own?” as a taunt, but that’s how I hear it every time she comes to mind. Critical. Judgmental. Disappointed.
I’m disappointed in myself. Don’t want Andi to join the crowd on that too.
We finish eating in silence, me pretty much cleaning my plate while she nibbles and grazes and has only a little bit of each thing.
When we’re done, I thank Mr. Ahmed and his daughter and promise to come back. That promise will be a pleasure to keep. This will be a great place to pick up dinner after long winter days at school. I might start getting my groceries here too, instead of from the Ingles near the highway.
An image flashes through my mind: me and Andi pushing a shopping cart, talking and laughing about our grocery selections, a baby in the child seat in front of us.
I shove the image away fast. Don’t want to have to mourn another thing that never came to pass.
We set out for the walk back to my place. I don’t have any clue what she’s going to want to do when we get there, or whether she’ll even want to come inside. So I need to bite the bullet, ignore the potential for humiliation, and just say what I need to say. Find out what I need to know.
Because I intend to be part of this baby’s life from now on. And I want life to be as easy as possible for their mama, even if she has no interest in me.
“How you feeling about this surprise?” I ask finally when we’re just a couple of blocks from my apartment.
Her hand comes up to her belly. “I’m still kind of in shock, I think. But also”—she shoots me a glance that’s sweet and almost shy—“cautiously excited?”
That lucky, lucky baby. I’d give anything to see her look that way when she thinks of me.
One part of the weight pressing on me lightens with the knowledge that at least Andi is happy about the baby. Some of the pressure remains, though, because although I feel that same happiness, my relationship to this baby is more precarious.
Extremely precarious. I need to remember that every single minute.
I clear my throat. “You haven’t had much time to think about it yet, huh?”
She huffs a laugh. “Three, four hours?”
“Want help?” Shit. I shouldn’t have phrased it as a question.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean…you’ll have to do stuff like babyproof your place, right? And you’ll need baby furniture and—” I wave my arm, remembering all the baby paraphernalia I’ve helped my sisters and brother lug around and set up and stuff into trunks and back seats and bedrooms. “I can put stuff together. I can paint a nursery space so you don’t have to breathe fumes. And I’ll set up a college fund tomorrow.
“And if you want a partner for childbirth classes, somebody to be in the room with you when you’re in labor, I can do that too.” I can see by her face that she hasn’t thought that far ahead. That might be too much too soon, but I don’t even wince when I think about it. If she’s going through the pain and the work of bringing my baby into this world, I should be there. For both of them.
She’s looking sideways at me as we reach my parking lot. “That’s…really nice. A really nice offer. I might take you up on some of that.”
Phew. Okay. I’ll take it. “You got a little bit more energy in you?”
Her brows shoot up and the wariness is back in her eyes. “Why?”
“We have a very important errand to run. Right away. We can be done and back in half an hour. You driving or am I?”
Her lips quirk up. “Well, you’re the one who knows where we’re going. You drive.”
She doesn’t need my help but I hand her into my passenger seat anyway. I feel her eyes on me as I drive us downtown. The shops on the square will be closing soon so I park as close as I can and hustle us the half block to Corey’s Books.
“What’re we doing here?” she asks as I pause inside the door, scanning the topic signs, looking for the right section.
“There.” I take her hand and tug her with me and she doesn’t resist. She even laughs.
My heart lightens a fraction in my chest. Maybe this will be okay. Maybe everything will turn out okay after all, if I do everything just right.
“Ahh.” She nods as we stop in front of the appropriate shelves.
I spot what I’m looking for right away, grab two copies, and head back up front to the checkout counter.
Andi’s laughing again two minutes later as we settle back into my car. “How’d you know exactly what book to get? And why two copies?”
“One for each of us. This is important stuff.” I say it lightly, but I want her to have no doubt—I’m in this with her and the baby. For good.
Then I shrug. “I wanted this particular one because I’ve watched my family pass it around, ever since my oldest sister got pregnant the first time.” I start the car, signal, and pull back onto the street, not looking at her. “I…may have read parts of it over the years. It tells you what to expect every step of the way. Everything. What’s going on in your body each month, how the baby’s developing, all kinds of issues people sometimes don’t think about…”
She flips through the long table of contents as I drive. “Wow, it really does cover everything. This is so thoughtful, Kevin. So useful. I hadn’t gotten that far in my mental processing yet.” She closes it and hugs it to her chest. “Thank you.”
I nod without trying to speak, on account of the lump in my throat. She sounds so touched just to have someone give her a book. Cripes, just to have someone do this one tiny thing for her.
Maybe that’s what it will take for her to let me stick around. I’ll be useful . The most useful person she’s ever met.
I find a parking spot next to her car. “What do you need now? How are you feeling?” Come inside with me. Let me hold you. Talk to me about everything. Let me cuddle you and our baby. Let me hold you while you sleep. Fix you a healthy breakfast when you wake up.
The parking lot’s pole lighting edges her cheekbone with silver. Turns her dark eyes unfathomable.
She doesn’t seem as wary this time when I reach to run a knuckle across her cheek, down along her jaw. “No pressure, Andi. Whatever you want. What do you need tonight?”
Her gaze drops to my mouth. I think I see longing there, briefly, before she drags her eyes back up to mine. “I should probably go home. Spend some time getting used to the idea of having a baby. Really wrap my head around it, you know?”
Fair enough. “Okay. You plenty awake to drive?”
She nods. “Yeah.” Then, before I can turn to open my door, her arms are around my neck and she’s pulling me close. “Thank you,” she whispers, her breath warm against the side of my neck.
My arms come around her too and I burrow one hand into her silky hair where it twists into that loose braid at her nape. It holds her body heat and her scent and for a minute I’m dizzy. “It’s just a book.” I joke to stop my eyes from tearing up.
“Nah, it’s not.” She pulls back enough to cup my face and presses her soft lips to mine. “You know it’s not.”
Then she opens her door and is out and into her own car before my heart resumes its normal rhythm.