22. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO #2
“You’re a fantastic kisser. I’ll be sure to thank Connor if we ever meet.”
Effie nudged him with her elbow, and he took the opportunity to sling his strong arm over her shoulder as they continued down the street. She still wore a mask of confidence as they walked along, but her nerves battled in her gut.
Theo would never actually meet Connor, but the thought of it made her warm with satisfaction.
She hadn’t talked to or thought about Connor in a long time.
They used to text each other whenever one of them waited at an airport or a bus station, since it was usually the only time Effie had her phone, and traveling felt like a reason to check in back home.
She’d texted him last summer before boarding a flight to Florida with her family to take the littles to Disney World. He never texted back.
If she was being honest, he had played a huge role in her romantic insecurities.
She’d always assumed if she was desirable he would have asked her to be his.
But Effie learned more and more how much her dad’s advice rang true.
If you don’t ask, the answer is no . It never occurred to Effie that it could be safe to let her desires be known. It never felt true .
She looked at Theo, but he didn’t notice. She admired the line of his jaw, the strong column of his neck. The thought of him shirtless and performing any number of the scenes from her romance novels flashed through her mind, unwittingly dumping a fresh basket of nerves down her spine.
Theo quirked a brow. “You okay?”
Effie’s throat went dry; she was ill-equipped to play it cool. She was not Louisa or Hope. She was . . . well, her. But it didn’t stop her from holding on to her last shred of feigned confidence. “Yeah, why?”
“You just shivered.” He brought his hand to the nape of her neck and dragged his thumb from below her ear to her collarbone, in what she could only guess was a comforting gesture, even though it unlocked a rush of desire instead.
Everything inside her twitched—with what she didn’t know. Anticipation? Pleasure? Anxiety?
Effie jerked away from his touch. “I’m not good at this.”
“Walking?”
Effie huffed. She wanted this to be easy.
She wanted to have what Grams and Gramps had.
He would put his arm around her on the sofa and sneak kisses when he walked by emptying the trash.
When they danced he’d nuzzle into her neck and seemingly forget anyone else was in the room.
They were affectionate and easy. She wanted that, but her insecurities seemed to have other plans.
“No,” Effie sighed. She felt on the verge of a panic attack.
She could really use a paper bag right now.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Theo whispered noticing her rising worry and taking up the space between them. He cupped her cheek. “Just breathe. Talk to me.”
Effie looked him in the eye. “Veritas?”
“Uh, truth? Yes. I want the truth. ”
“You make me incredibly nervous. I don’t know how to .
. . like the hand-holding and you kiss my forehead and .
. . I haven’t done the affectionate couple thing and you’re so good at it and I feel like I’m one wrong step away from you realizing that I’m too weird or behind for you .
. . I missed my first kiss.” Well, that was a mess of sweet, sour, tangy, metallic nonsense.
“You . . . what?”
“I missed. I was fourteen. It was at camp. This really cute boy walked me back to my cabin after a mixer thing, and standing at the door . . . he made like he was going to kiss me but didn’t come the whole way, I closed my eyes too early and kissed his chin.
I missed. He walked out, probably thinking I was an idiot. ”
Theo laughed.
“It’s not funny! I was mortified!”
“As anyone who missed their first kiss would be.” Theo chuckled but brushed his thumb down Effie’s cheek. “You seemed so confident this afternoon.”
“I was pretending.” He didn’t like that if his scowl was any indication. Effie knew logically her inexperience wasn’t a dealbreaker, that she was not the virgin sent to save the rake, but she couldn’t help but feel like she dragged him backward to a level of life he’d already mastered.
“Alright, new rules. You don’t pretend to be anything you’re not feeling, and I will be cool with it because as previously mentioned . . .” He leaned in close and whispered, “I kind of like you.”
“You might do well to see a therapist about that,” Effie quipped, noting Theo’s displeasure at her self-deprecation.
“Not unless she’d help me know you better.” Theo looked her up and down and she wondered what mischievous thought had him grinning like a fox. “Truth or dare?”
Effie felt like she’d revealed far too many truths in one day, so she said, “Dare.”
“Without thinking or stewing or mulling anything over, do something you feel like doing right now. A cartwheel, the Carlton dance. Whatever you feel first. Just do it.”
“Okay, Nike.” She grimaced at him. “This is a weird dare.”
Theo shrugged.
Effie took a deep breath, clearing her mind.
There was only one thing she wanted to do when she opened her eyes and saw Theo watching her, his face drenched in admiration.
She didn’t think and tugged him in close.
Her arms wrapped around his neck and she rose onto her tiptoes, planting a deep, claiming kind of kiss on his lips.
They pulled apart, both a bit breathless, Effie floating on the high of getting exactly what she wanted in that moment.
“I would have guessed cartwheel,” Theo whispered.
Effie smiled at him before striding forward and sipping her tea. Much to Effie’s satisfaction, it took Theo a beat to seemingly remember how to move his legs, but he caught up in a hurry, slipping his hand into hers.
Brayden shuffled to the elevator at the end of the hall, finally finished with his inspection for the day.
Not only was it torture sitting through the ultrasound with Hope while the doctor made subtle commentary that indicated to him she had no idea he’d just learned about the baby, but having to step into exam room after exam room—each one identical to the one that changed his life in an instant—made for a very long, very tiring, very unpleasant day.
The bright spot, if he chose to find one, was hearing that heartbeat.
It had rocked his world. Whatever surrealist dream he’d been living in when he opened the door on Hope and her pregnant belly shattered when the ultrasound started.
It immediately grounded him. Hope had chosen not to learn the baby’s gender, and he was glad for that.
There were so few surprises in the world.
But he supposed he’d already had enough of those for the day. For a lifetime, it felt like.
He was quiet the whole appointment, and when the doctor left to give them a moment with the profile of a little face on the machine, he had squeezed Hope’s hand, kissed her on the forehead, and strode into the hallway before he said something he couldn’t take back.
That had been three hours ago.
The elevator doors opened on the first floor. He wheeled his cart half full of expired extinguishers past the receptionist and out to his van.
Hope perched against the bumper waiting for him.
She jerked to standing when she saw him. He wheeled around her to the double doors in the back, opening them to unload while she watched him in silence. “I don’t want to yell at you,” he finally said through gritted teeth.
“So don’t? This isn’t how I wanted you to find out . . .”
He’d held it tight to get through the day, but now the leash on his pain snapped.
He slammed the doors to the van shut and turned to face Hope fully.
“Are you kidding me right now? What the actual fuck, Hope? Six months. Six months! Half the time we’ve been together you’ve been pregnant and lying to me! ”
“Not quite half . . .”
“You kept this huge thing from me and had the gall to call me a liar!” Hope cowered and he tried to steady his voice, but his blood boiled.
He’d never been so angry in his life. Not even when Chloe had all but confessed she had married him for his money and would go quietly if he met her demands. That was a blip compared to this.
“You did lie!”
“That was my past! I omitted something I want to be free of. Something I am never going back to. Chloe doesn’t change who I am or what I want with you or anything that matters to our future!
You omitted our baby, Hope. Our baby . .
. Damn it, I would have been at every appointment!
I would have done so many things and you took that from me.
” He barely held himself together. This sucked.
He wanted to go home and drink himself stupid.
Truthfully, what he wanted to do was go home and pin the sonogram in his pocket to the refrigerator before settling in on the couch with Hope to watch a movie while he rubbed her feet.
“I was on my way to tell you when I met her !”
“And believed I was a cheating loser. Glad you thought so highly of me.”
“She said she was your wife!”
“You should have come to me, asked me, given me a fucking chance!” This was not how Brayden imagined I still love you would turn out. Everything was going to shit.
“Oh, like you did here today?”
“I had to get back to work . . .”
“It could have waited and you know it.”
“All I know, Hope, is that if I didn’t walk by your house the other day, if your grandmother hadn’t caught me, you never would have reached out. I still wouldn’t know about my baby . . . I would still think you hated me for no goddamn reason.”
“That’s not true—”
“Isn’t it? Effie telling you the truth about Chloe wasn’t enough to get you to talk to me. Why should I believe you ever had any intention of telling me about the baby?”
“Brayden, stop it.” He knew he was right. Hell, Effie all but confirmed it when she said Hope didn’t give second chances. Well, maybe he wouldn’t either.
“No. God, Hope. You must have known what this would feel like. To be treated like your fucking sperm donor.” There it was.
The root of the rage that had been building since he saw her on that exam bench.
If he was a different man, a less persistent one, then she would have kept his baby from him.
He would be no different to his kid than his dad, sperm-donor-number-whatever, was to him.
That was something he wasn’t sure he could ever forgive her for.
Regardless of her change of heart, regardless of her email.
That kernel of truth planted in the back of his mind like a cancer cell waiting to multiply.
He’d never be able to be one hundred percent certain that Hope wanted him to be a true father to their baby.
She’d said she loved him, but how could that be true?
This wasn’t how you treated someone you loved. It just wasn’t.
“I’m sorry I kept my past from you, but you had no right to keep this from me.”
“I know,” Hope whispered, tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry that I hurt you.”
Brayden wanted to believe her, but just as she’d once written that she couldn’t trust herself not to blindly accept apologies in light of his transgressions, he felt the same. He took a deep breath, scouring the parking lot.
“Where’s your car?”
“I walked.”
“That’s like five miles round trip.”
“So?” Brayden gestured to the swell of Hope’s stomach that looked much smaller beneath her baggy T-shirt. “I’m pregnant, not an invalid.”
Something about hearing her say it, confess it, put words to it— I’m pregnant— stirred a primal ache in his chest. His heart yearned to wrap her in his arms, put his hands on her belly, and feel his baby kick and squirm.
It made him want to veto each other’s baby names and paint one of the extra bedrooms a gender-neutral green with woodland creatures.
It made him want to be a dad, to be whole and happy.
But listening to his heart brought him more pain than joy in the past.
He looked at the darkening sky. She wouldn’t make it home before sunset. “Get in,” he commanded before moving around to the driver’s side. Hope looked at him over the hood.
“Hope Lilac Thatcher get in the damn car, please.” She didn’t budge. Shame or guilt or pain wobbled her lip, but he couldn’t hold her hurt right now. He only had space for his own at the moment. “Just let me drive my baby home.”
Thankfully, Hope climbed into the passenger seat. She noted the manila folder that rested on the center console and looked at Brayden, eyes full of questions.
“My divorce was finalized yesterday.”
“How?” Hope’s voice was the softest he’d ever heard it.
“I gave her what she wanted, so I could finally be with you.”
Not that it mattered now.