Chapter 19 #2
She turned from the counter, the flash of guilt in her eyes momentarily betrayed by a tremor in her voice. “You always know which part belongs to me and which part doesn’t.”
Evan’s lips curved in a small, rueful smile. He placed both hands on the countertop, the rough grain of the wood under his palms. “I’m better at seeing boundaries when they belong to someone else. My own have been less clear lately.”
Heat rose in Abby’s chest, flooding her cheeks. The kettle still sat cold and silent on the burner, but her pulse thundered in her ears. She understood exactly what he meant—an unspoken tension that had been pulsing between them since long before the baby’s first kick.
“Because you’re attracted to me?” Her voice was softer now, a question woven with equal parts challenge and need. “I need you to answer honestly.”
Evan froze, his chest rising in a sudden, deep breath. After a long moment, he said simply, “Yes.” The word fell between them, precise and unflinching. Before she could speak again, he added, “I am attracted to you. I have been trying to decide whether saying it would put another demand on you.”
“Wanting me is not a demand.” Abby reached out and set the coffee scoop beside the bag, her movement sure. Her fingertip brushed his hand as she did so, and a jolt of warmth shot up her arm.
“I know the difference.” He curled his fingers once against the counter, eyes never leaving hers. “I also know you’re pregnant, your engagement ended less than six months ago, and the man who hurt you has spent those months harassing you.”
She drew in a steadying breath. “Hudson’s version can’t decide what I do with the rest of my life. If I avoid you because he accuses me of wanting you, he still controls the choice.”
“This isn’t only about Hudson.” Evan turned slightly, glancing at the dark window that showed their reflections—two outlines edging closer. “We became friends because we were both devastated. I don’t want either of us to confuse being understood with being ready.”
Abby’s heart clenched at the memory of the company celebration, the way he’d respected her space, the way he’d asked nothing in return when she offered help.
She stepped a half pace closer. “I don’t want you because you found the messages.
I wanted you at the office when I saw you talk about something you built.
I wanted you in the parking lot when you looked at my mouth.
And I wanted you here when your hand was on me. ”
Evan’s breath caught. The narrow space between them seemed to dissolve. He reached out, fingertips hovering an inch from her face. “I thought I imagined the parking lot,” Abby continued, voice soft, urgent. “Then I thought I imagined what happened after the baby moved.”
“You didn’t imagine either one.” His voice dropped, rough with feeling. “I stepped away because I wanted to kiss you.”
Behind them the kettle began to hum. Abby moved, flipping off the burner, but stayed rooted close enough to feel the heat from his body. She turned back to him without pouring the water. “Why didn’t you?” she whispered. “You knew I wanted you to stay.”
Evan’s gaze dropped to her lips, then flicked back to her eyes. “I knew you didn’t move away,” he said. “That is not the same as asking me to change our friendship.”
“Then ask me now.” Her pulse pounded in her throat, her entire body humming with anticipation. “Give me the chance to answer.”
He stepped around the counter, closing the last few inches.
Abby could see the quick inhale of his chest, the tension in his shoulders.
He paused so close that she could count the faint freckles on his jawline.
“Do you want me to kiss you?” he asked, voice husky.
“I need the answer to be about tonight, not what either of us might owe the other.”
She lifted her chin, her breath fluttering. “Yes,” she said, voice thick with need. “I want you to kiss me tonight.”
Evan’s hand came up in a slow arc, fingertips brushing her temple, then settling at the hollow just beneath her cheekbone.
The pad of his thumb was warm, steady, giving her the space to change her mind.
But Abby closed the last gap. Her palm slid against his chest, her fingers threading into the fabric of his shirt.
She tipped her head, and when their lips met, it was like a question whispered against her soul—and she answered with a soft, hungry return.
His restraint was still there, in the measured press of his mouth, the gentle exploration of his tongue. His other hand curved around her waist, thumb brushing over the tender swell of her belly. Abby’s hand traveled up, tracing the line of his neck as he deepened the kiss, patient, reverent.
The world narrowed to that small kitchen.
The hum of the kettle faded behind them; only the soft rustle of their breathing remained.
Abby felt the steady beat of his heart under her palm, the heat of his body mingling with hers.
She was desired, not overwhelmed. Every brush of skin was an affirmation of choice, of respect, of shared longing.
They finally broke apart, foreheads resting together, breaths mingling in the space between.
Evan’s hands fell to her hips, his fingertips brushing over the fabric of her dress.
His chest rose and fell unevenly—evidence that calm did not mean indifference.
Abby closed her eyes for a moment, letting the warmth spread through her, certain at last that this moment was entirely, beautifully theirs.
“Are you all right?” he asked as he searched her face. “I know that is an inadequate question.”
“I’m all right.” Abby left her hand against his shirt. “Are you?”
“No.” Evan released a breath that almost became a laugh. “I’m trying not to kiss you again before we discuss what happens next.”
“We don’t have to decide everything tonight.” Abby felt the baby shift between them and moved her hand from his chest to her stomach. “I’m not asking you to promise where this ends.”
“I don’t want to hide it or treat you like a mistake we made under stress.” Evan took a half step back, giving her room around the counter. “I can move slowly, but I cannot pretend I don’t want more than dinner once a week.”
“I don’t want to pretend either.” Abby looked at the two empty mugs and the kettle cooling on the stove. “I also need to know that friendship does not disappear if this becomes complicated.”
“It may change.” Evan did not offer certainty he could not guarantee. “I will not use it against you or punish you for needing time.”
The answer was less romantic than a promise that nothing could go wrong. Abby trusted it because it accounted for both of them remaining human.
“Then we move slowly,” she said. “We have dinner, we talk, and we decide one thing at a time.”
Evan nodded. “One thing at a time.”
Abby looked at his mouth. “The next thing can be another kiss.”
This time, Evan smiled before he touched her. He placed one hand lightly at her waist and waited until she leaned toward him.
The second kiss carried less caution and more recognition. Abby curled her fingers into the front of his shirt, and Evan drew her closer.
The baby kicked once beneath his hand. They both paused, then Abby began laughing against his mouth.
“She has poor timing,” Abby said as she rested her forehead against his chin. “Or strong opinions.”
“That was stronger than last week.” Evan kept his hand still at Abby’s side. “She’s growing quickly.”
“She has been active all day.” Abby stepped back and reached for the kettle. “We should make the coffee before the water cools.”
She poured the water over the grounds while Evan collected the mugs. Dinner was supposed to arrive in twelve minutes, giving them both time to recover before the driver rang the bell.
They carried the coffee into the living room and sat at opposite ends of the sofa, closer than they had been during any previous visit. Evan did not touch her again until Abby placed her hand between them, palm upward, and he threaded his fingers through hers.
The conversation returned to the ordinary details of their week. Their joined hands rested on the cushion between them, changing the evening without requiring either of them to define more than they had already agreed upon.