43. Zara #2
I rest my head on his shoulder and close my eyes. “Thank you. This is my idea of heaven—minus the pain and sore throat and congestion.”
“You’re welcome.” His arms go around me, and he tenderly rubs his thumb along my arm. “You wanna tell me why you’ve been avoiding me for the past week?”
Dammit. I walked right into that trap. He knows I won’t be able to escape him, escape the question—not while we are like this, in the bathtub. Not while my body isn’t in the mood to comply with my wishes.
What am I supposed to tell him?
I’ve known Garrett most of my life, and we’ve been close friends for the better part of it. It’s not in my nature to keep things from him—other than how I’m in love with him.
But admitting what I overheard the other day, when Athena was ranting about me to herself…it’s too much .
Garrett kisses my wet shoulder. “You can tell me anything, you know that, right?”
I open my eyes and nod.
He kisses my neck, sending a shower of sparks through me in spite of my cold. “So tell me.”
I ease out a slow breath. It does nothing to relax me. “It’s just something I overheard Athena saying last Monday in P&T’s staff room, after Peony freaked out.”
“What did she say?” There’s an edge to Garrett’s voice I can’t unravel through the brain fog.
I roll my bottom lip between my teeth, figuring out the best way to address his question.
“What did she say?” he presses when I don’t respond, still in thought.
The words cling to the back of my throat, pleading for me to lie.
To come up with something less hurtful. Maybe I could even convince myself the lie is true.
That she never said what I overheard. “She was complaining how…it really doesn’t matter what she was saying.
She loves your daughter, and that’s what’s important. ”
“I don’t doubt she loves Peony.” He continues caressing my arm, his touch lulling my brain into doing whatever he asks of me. “But what I want to know is what she said that had you avoiding me.”
I swallow, and it feels like I’ve tossed gasoline onto the flames in my throat, their heat lashing the tender lining.
“She couldn’t believe how anyone could confuse me as Peony’s mother.
After Joffrey thought I was her mom. She said I’m nothing like Kenda.
” Something I already know and don’t need the reminder of.
I’d realized it in college, when Garrett fell in love with her and didn’t see me as someone he could love that way.
“She also said I’m not the one who plays with Peony, nor am I there for her when she has a nightmare.
And she’s right. I’m not. Athena is more capable of being Peony’s mother than I am.
” The reality of those words still cuts deep.
“Not that I’m trying to be her mother,” I rush out. “No one could ever take Kenda’s place.”
What Garrett and I currently have between us—the kissing and sex— isn’t about us being a couple. It isn’t about us falling in love and making a family.
“It’s just…her words reminded me how much the spondyloarthritis impacts my ability to be a mother.”
“In what way?”
“I always have to worry about triggers that might cause the symptoms to worsen. And while things have improved due to the lifestyle changes I’ve made to keep the flare-ups under control…
” I draw in a breath, too quiet for Garrett to hear.
What I’m about to say will forever put me in the friend zone.
To have him see me as nothing more than Peony’s doting “aunt.” “Things have improved, but I’m not a hundred percent.
You’ve seen me with yoga. It’s a struggle for me—the getting up and down. ”
“And you think those things will keep you from being a mother?” Confusion twists its way through his tone, ties it up with a pretty bow.
“They make it more challenging. I can’t play with Peony as easily as Athena can.”
“But you can do so much more than that.”
I smirk—not that he can see my mouth with my back pressed against his front. “You mean make adorable unicorn cupcakes?”
He chuckles, the low rumble vibrating through me where our bodies touch. “Being able to make those certainly doesn’t hurt.” He kisses my shoulder once more, and a different kind of fire than the one in my throat sparks to life low in my belly. “I take it you want kids?”
It’s an honest question. We’ve never really talked about whether I want to have kids one day or not. Just like we’ve never discussed whether they were in his future either.
“I do. One day.” Not that I’ve found someone I want to have them with, if you exclude the man I’m currently reclining on.
But even if I do find a man one day who wants to have kids, things might not be so simple. For some women, pregnancy can trigger spondyloathritis symptoms to worsen. They spend most of their pregnancy in more pain than normal. There’s no way to predict how things will play out.
“Well, for all it’s worth, I think you’ll be a great mom. ”
My mouth eases into a small smile, but the reality of the truth—I’ll never be the mother to his kids—prevents it from growing wider. “Thanks.”
Garrett plants a soft kiss in the crook of my neck. “Is the bath helping any?”
“Yes.” I only wish it could last for a few more hours.
But he cannot stay here, with me, for much longer. Even if he didn’t have the book deadline rushing toward him at full speed, it’s a holiday and he should be spending it with his daughter.
His fingers move between my legs, sending a wave of need through me. “Do you want me to give you an orgasm?” His low, gravelly voice against my ear is almost enough to have me coming right here. And now.
“Yes, please.” My breathy tone floats out on a light moan.
Garrett sits next to me on the couch and picks up the romance novel from the coffee table. “Ready for story time? I thought I would read to you.”
He flashes me a playful grin, then shifts on the couch, piling pillows at the end of it. Seeming satisfied with the result, he pats between his legs. “Sit here.”
I move my ass to where he’s indicating and lean back on him, like I did in the bath.
“Comfy?” His warm breath fans over my cheek.
How could I not be? With Garrett? Like this? “Definitely.” After the orgasm he gave me, the pain in my body has eased off slightly. The cold in my head and chest is another matter.
He puts on his reading glasses, and damn , he looks as fine as ever in them. I don’t know what it is with those dark-framed glasses, but they drive up his sex appeal—and leave me practically drooling.
Garrett’s arms go around me, and he opens the book to the last page I was on .
I close my eyes and listen to his deep melodic voice. If this is what male narrators sound like, I might need to start listening to audiobooks after all.
Or convince Garrett to read to me more often.
“I can’t believe she didn’t just kick him out of the vehicle,” Garrett says after he’s been reading for a while. “Why is she giving him a second chance?”
“Because she loves him. Because she knows deep down, he isn’t as messed up as he thinks he is.”
“ Hmm . He sounds pretty messed up to me.”
“Most people are, one way or another. As you know, Mr. Thriller Author.” The corners of my mouth twitch.
“But that’s the beauty of romance. It’s a chance for the hero and heroine to untangle what they think are the messiest parts of themselves.
” I absentmindedly draw circles on the inside of his wrist with my index finger.
“But it’s the other person who helps them eventually see that part of themselves clearer.
And they realize they aren’t as broken as they had originally believed.
And it’s only then they can progress to the happily ever after. Together.”
“Guess I’ve never thought of it that way.”
“That’s because you don’t read romance.” I playfully poke him in the side with my elbow. “Speaking of which…how’s the romance in your novel going?” I haven’t gotten over how he’s actually adding spicy scenes to the story.
“Not bad.”
I shift forward and glance over my shoulder at him. “You’re not planning to kill off the woman, are you?” I can’t believe he did that in one of his novels and dared to call the subplot a “romance.”
His fingers trail along my cheekbone and tuck a wayward coil behind my ear. “After the grief you gave me last time?” He chuckles. “Definitely not.”
“What’s she like? The woman your character falls in love with.”
Garrett doesn’t answer right away, his eyes probing mine.
“Smart. Generous. Kind. Loyal. There’s nothing she wouldn’t do for her friends and loved ones.
She’s the kind of person who makes someone feel seen, worthy.
” His gaze drops to my lips. “She’s the kind of person who welcomes people into her circle and makes them feel like family. ”
“She sounds amazing.”
His eyes flick up to mine again, and a smile plays on his mouth. “She is.”