Chapter Four
Beau
Her expanded belly hides behind my T-shirt as she curls into the couch by the fireplace.
I wanted her close so I could keep an eye on her, but I’m pretty sure bringing her here is on top of the list of the worst mistakes I’ve ever made.
It’s not just the curve of her body or the way she fits into the quiet of my home, it’s the way she looked at me when I offered help.
Like no one had ever done it without strings.
Like she didn’t know what to do with kindness.
And now she’s here, curled up in my living room, wearing my clothes, carrying someone else’s child, and I’m trying like hell to keep my thoughts clean.
I sit across from her, pretending to scroll through my phone, pretending I’m not cataloging every sound she makes. The soft sighs. The way she shifts to get comfortable. The way her fingers rest protectively over her belly like she’s shielding something sacred.
She’s not mine, she’s not ready, and I’m her boss… but none of that stops the ache in my chest when I look at her. None of it stops the part of me that wants to make her and that baby feel safe every damn day for the rest of eternity.
I shift in my chair, trying to focus on the fire crackling in front of us, but my eyes keep drifting back to her. She’s half asleep now, lashes casting shadows on her cheeks, one hand curled under her belly like instinct, like love.
It’s beautiful. She’s beautiful. I shouldn’t feel this way. I know that, but knowing doesn’t stop the quiet pull in my chest every time she exhales and settles deeper into the cushions like she finally feels safe.
She’s been through hell, and I’m not here to complicate that. I’m here to make sure she gets through the night without fear. To make sure she knows someone’s in her corner, even if it’s just me, sitting across the room, pretending I’m not falling for the way she holds herself together.
I stand slowly, grab the folded blanket from the armrest, and walk it over, draping it gently across her legs, careful not to wake her. She stirs, just slightly, and murmurs something I can’t quite catch. I pause, watching her breathe, the tips of my fingers still on her soft skin.
The best thing I can do is get a fucking grip. I know that. She’s young, she’s been through hell, and the last thing she needs is her boss overcomplicating everything.
Tearing my hand away, I turn off the lamp, leave the fire burning low, and settle into the chair across from her. I’ll stay up, just in case.
Tonight, she’s not alone, and tomorrow… we’ll figure out what comes next.