Chapter 26
FISHER
“It wasn’t just a one-night offer.” I glance behind me from the couch to find Ebba in the doorway of her bedroom. She nods her head to the space behind her. “Come on. I promise not to cuddle you. I’m capable of keeping my hands to myself.” She flexes her manicured fingers.
I have to fight not to grin like a fucking idiot. She doesn’t realize that I was very much aware of the way she scooted closer to my body in the night until she was fully wrapped around me.
Best sleep I’ve had in a long time.
“Maybe I don’t want you to keep your hands to yourself.”
She levels me with an amused look and shakes her head. “Don’t make me change my mind.”
I mime zipping my lips and follow her into her room. The smell of her lotion—something warm and sweet like vanilla tinged with something else I can’t quite pinpoint—permeates the air.
With a yawn, she pulls back the covers on her side of the bed and slips beneath them before reaching for the remote and turning the TV on.
“Do you care if I watch TV?” she asks.
“You know I don’t mind.” I loop my thumbs into the back of my shirt and yank it off my head, dropping it onto the floor.
I find Ebba’s eyes tracing my torso. I might not play professionally anymore—and my career was incredibly short-lived anyway—but I run a lot and lift weights and still play the occasional tennis match with Noah for fun, so I know I’m not out of shape.
If she keeps looking at me like this, though, I’m going to get hard, and she’ll probably kick me out of her room.
That night in Vegas was years of pent-up, suppressed emotions coming to a head for her, and I don’t expect it to happen again anytime soon.
“Put your shirt back on,” she gripes and clasps her hands together beneath her head.
“You know I sleep hot,” I say defensively.
She bites her lip, still looking at me. I scratch my stomach and her eyes track the movement of my fingers before they drop lower following the trail of hair beneath my belly button that disappears into my sleep pants. Normally, I’d take those off too, but I’m not trying to piss her off.
“Fine.” She flicks her fingers over to the empty space of her bed. “Stop standing there staring at me. It’s weird.”
I grin as I go around the side of her bed and climb beneath her sheets. They’re silky soft and the smell of her is even stronger as I pull the sheets up to my chin. I inhale that scent like a fucking creep.
I’m never getting my fill of Ebba and if she decides after all this is said and done, that she never wants to see me again then I’m fucking screwed because there’s no one else on this planet that will ever stir the feelings in me that she does.
I’ve almost dozed off to sleep—her reality show about a crew on a private yacht not doing anything to hold my attention like it does hers—when she turns the TV off and she speaks so softly, I almost think she might not want me to actually hear her.
“Do you think if we hadn’t lost the baby, we’d still be together?”
I don’t even have to think about my answer. “Yes.”
Her breath hitches and a moment later her shoulders shake with silent sobs.
Fuck.
“C’mere, baby.” I reach for her, and she shockingly rolls over so she’s facing me. Tucking her head beneath my chin, she cries and lets me hold her. Her tears are cool against the skin of my throat, but I don’t care. She needs to let this out.
We’ve both spent too much time burying emotions that shouldn’t have been shoved down anyway.
“Let it out,” I croon, cupping the back of her skull. My lips press gently to her forehead.
“I know I wasn’t that far along,” she hiccups. “But I wanted our baby so bad.”
“I know, love.” I rub at the back of her neck.
“I think it was a girl,” she says quietly, her fingers sliding around my neck before she presses a soft kiss to my throat.
I clear my throat, my own eyes stinging with unshed tears. “I do too.”
“Yeah?” She pulls away just slightly so she can find my eyes.
I nod. “Yeah. I just had a feeling.”
A minute or two passes in silence before she says, “We didn’t even get to talk about baby names.”
It feels like she’s stabbing me in my heart. I know she’s not doing it on purpose. It’s just the rawness of the situation.
Still rubbing the back of her neck, I ask, “Should we give her a name now?”
I shiver when she traces her finger over my collarbone. “I guess we could.”
“I think it would be nice to give her a name.”
“Are there any names you like?” Her fingers slide down further and my hips jerk when she circles my nipple.
“Uh…” I can’t think with her thumb circling against me like that. Blood is rushing straight to my dick. “I don’t know. I like shorter names. Something like Emma or Claire.”
“Hmm,” she hums thoughtfully.
“Would you want to do a Swedish name?”
Her mom is Swedish and named both Ebba and Elias names common for her heritage.
“Not necessarily. I like shorter names too. Olivia, Nova, and Ella.”
“All good choices.” My breath hitches when her fingers trail further down my stomach.
“What about Grace?” she asks softly.
“Grace,” I repeat, testing it out on my tongue. “I love it. It’s perfect.”
She nods, her curly hair rubbing against my face. “Grace Grant. I love it.”
Her hand slips further to the top of the waistband of my pants. I hiss out a breath and grab her hand.
“What are you doing?” I ask her.
She bites her lip and there’s a vulnerability in her dark eyes. “I don’t know,” she answers softly. “I … no matter what I do I can’t seem to quit you. I try to push you away, keep you at arm’s length, and then I end up married to you.”
I smooth my fingers along the curve of her cheek. “I want you. In all ways. Please, don’t doubt that, but I don’t want you to use sex as a distraction.”
“It’s a bit late for that,” she reminds me.
I smile. “I’m trying to make up for it now. We know the sex is fucking phenomenal between us, but I need you to know that I’m not going anywhere. I’m willing to fight for you every day for the rest of my life because you’re worth it.”
She arches a brow. “So, you won’t fuck me again?”
I shake my head. “Not yet. Not until we’re on the same page.”
I expect her to pull away and roll to her side of the bed, but she shocks me when she pulls her hand away and places it against my heart. I rest my chin on top of her head and before I can fall asleep she’s already out, her soft breaths puffing against my chest. I smile to myself as I hold her.
And here she said she wasn’t going to cuddle me.
Hope surges inside me. I haven’t completely lost her. I have a chance and I’m going to grip onto that possibility for as long as I can.