10. Chapter 10
A little over a week has passed since I moved in with Grant. Saying we’ve fallen into a routine would be a stretch. It’s not awkward, but it’s not not awkward. We don’t talk about what this is. It’s more than roommates, but not a relationship.
It’s like we’re both waiting to see who crosses the invisible line first.
Grant’s been…great, like really great. Helpful, present—but never hovering. I’ve caught him watching me more than once, but he never says anything. It’s like a million things are running through his head, too, and neither of us knows what to say.
Even with us both working opposite shifts, he still finds a way to make my day.
Some days, he sends me a ‘good morning’ text.
Other days, he has a warm bath waiting for me when I get home from work.
After the freak-out incident when I came home later than planned, I shared my location with him in case of an emergency.
Now he uses it to track when I’ll walk in the door, surprising me with sweet gestures: a warm bath, dinner reheated, Criminal Minds queued up.
I drag myself out of bed and make my way to the bathroom.
The baby is pressing on my bladder like it’s a full-time job.
Morning pee cannot be delayed. With my routine finished, I shuffle toward the smell of coffee as bright sunlight shines through the windows.
I slept later than usual this morning—my body needs more and more rest. Grant’s no doubt been gone for hours.
The coffeemaker is still set to warm, a half a pot left behind. But it’s the travel mug on the counter that catches my eye. There’s a sticky note on it. My chest tingles at his thoughtfulness as a smile tugs on my lips.
In his messy all-caps handwriting, it reads:
A stupid laugh bubbles from my throat before I can stop it.
With my fingers pressed to my lips, I blink away the tears rapidly forming at the corners of my eyes.
This has become his thing, and I love it so much.
They started a few days ago, and I look forward to stumbling across a new note in different places.
These little random reminders—some funny, some annoyingly practical, and others hit me right in the chest.
Grabbing the travel mug and the note, I make my way back to my bedroom to get ready for my doctor's appointment. In the last week, I’ve settled into this space.
All my boxes are unpacked. I didn’t have a whole lot that I brought with me, but I made sure to set around some pieces of decor that made this room feel like my home.
A TV sits on my dresser, surrounded by frames and a few trinkets. My aunt sent a small crib for the apartment. With Grant’s help, we rearranged the furniture to make space. I promised him pizza and beer if he helped put it together this weekend.
Swiping through my closet, I grab a beige linen set.
The oversized button-up doesn’t cling to my ever-growing bump, while the stretchy shorts fit comfortably on my hips.
I take a sip of honey-flavored coffee, savoring the warmth as I button the top.
When my aunt asked me to make a baby registry, I made sure to put only zipper sleepers. Buttons at 3 a.m.? Hard pass.
My phone rings, the vibration on the dresser startling me. Glancing down at the screen, I can’t help but smile.
“Hey.” Happiness radiates in my greeting as I press the phone between my ear and shoulder, exiting my room and heading to the bathroom to apply my makeup.
“Well, aren’t you a delight this morning?” Ridge’s deep voice comes through the speaker. There’s a rustling of wind and the low hum of traffic behind him. “I tried calling you earlier.”
I chuckle, lifting my sponge and dabbing foundation across my face. “Yeah, at seven this morning.”
“And?”
“And…I was still sleeping.”
“Seriously?” he snaps. I pause, staring at my reflection in the mirror as my brow furrows at his tone. This isn’t like him.
“Ridge,” I snap right back. “I’m growing a human. It’s exhausting. What’s got you in such a huff?”
He sighs deeply, and I can picture him running his hand over his buzz cut. “Can’t wait to have the kid on my bike with me.”
I huff a laugh, reaching for my brow pencil to shape my overgrown eyebrows. I need a wax. “Over my dead body is my kid getting on a bike with you , of all people.”
He mocks a gasp. “I'm offended.”
I bite down on a smile as I drag the pencil through my brows, then soften it with the spoolie. “You don’t know what a speed limit is.”
“Just because I like to race doesn’t mean I wouldn’t jump in front of a bullet for the kid.”
“I know, Ridge. I know,” I respond, reassuring him that I’m aware he would protect my baby at all costs. But then I get back to the matter at hand. Something feels off with my cousin. “What’s going on?”
“Can’t I call and check in?” he mutters, and I can hear the click of a lighter. I picture him pausing on the sidewalk, phone between his ear and shoulders as he lights a cigarette.
“Of course you can. You sound off…”
“I’m fine.” I hear him blow out some smoke. “Rough week, but we’re talking about you.”
“But we can talk about you.” Rummaging through my makeup bag, I pull out my bronzer. Rubbing a brush through the bronzer, I stipple it across the high points of my face.
“Nope. How’s your living situation?”
“It’s been…good. Weird, but not bad. We’re figuring it out,” I respond honestly, knowing Ridge can see through me, especially if I’m hiding something.
“Weird how?”
“Like…we coexist. More than roommates, not dating. I don’t know how to explain it. He shows up when I never expect him to. It’s like he’s taking on a role, and I feel guilty.”
“You have no reason to feel guilty.”
“But I do. This isn’t his problem—me or the baby. I’m afraid I’m ruining his life by being here.” The honesty shocks me. Do I still think this?
“Would you stop?” The harshness in his voice has me pausing the mascara wand halfway to my lashes. “Sorry, but we’ve been over this. Guys don’t act like that unless they care. We’re not wired that way.”
“Some days, it feels like he wants more. Like we’re on the edge of something. But when I think he’s about to admit his feelings or make a move, he distances himself. We haven’t crossed any lines.”
“But you want to.” I can hear the smirk in his voice.
I don’t answer right away. The silence speaks loud enough. Instead, I finish applying the black mascara to my lashes.
Voices sound on Ridge’s end. He curses under his breath, muffling his voice, saying something on his end I can’t make out. “If he breaks your heart again…”
“Ridge,” I interrupt his threat. “He never broke my heart in the first place. I was the one who didn’t want anything.
I was the one who kept him at arm's length. But he’s been good to me, I promise.
He’s been making me coffee and making sure I’m well fed.
Even lets me watch Criminal Minds on repeat. ”
“Sounds like the guy needs to grow a pair and admit he loves you.”
I drag a hand through my hair and start piling it into a high ponytail. “Or maybe he’s being respectful.”
“Whatever,” he grumbles. I hear the faint sound of a door slamming behind him. “Let me know how the appointment goes. You need anything, text me.”
“I will.” I smile. “Hey, Ridge?”
“Yeah, Sav?”
“Stay safe.”
“Always.” The line clicks, leaving me staring at myself in the mirror. Reflection caught between steady and unsettled.
I’m nervous about this thing between Grant and me.
It’s too early to make any moves. We’ve barely been living together, and we’re getting to know each other again.
I’m carrying someone else’s baby, and I refuse to jump from man to man like my mother did.
I promise to give my child a stable life, with or without a man.
No time to dwell. I need to get my tennis shoes on and head out for my appointment.
The waiting room is quiet when I arrive. It’s why I love having the first appointment after lunch. I check in at the front, and the receptionist instructs me to use the restroom and leave a urine sample. It’s the same thing every appointment.
With my hands freshly washed and my sample left in the bathroom, I make my way over to the waiting room.
Settling into one of the stiff maroon chairs by the window, I pull out my phone from my purse.
I scroll through Instagram, liking pictures as I go, smiling at my screen when I stumble across a photo of Quinton and Brynn’s daughter, Cleo.
I can’t believe their little girl is six months old.
It feels like yesterday when Brynn and I were partying on campus.
The sound of the door swinging open pulls my eyes up. And my breath stutters in my chest.
Grant Campbell walks in like a man on a mission, like he’s been here before.
A light-blue CTU football shirt hugs his muscular chest while short gray athletic shorts hang off his frame.
Hazel eyes scan the room, but all I’m focused on is the way his baseball cap hangs low over his brow, casting an intimidating look across his face.
His neatly trimmed beard sends heat crawling through me.
Grant’s never been one to keep his facial hair, always opting for a clean shave, but since he’s finished playing football, he’s kept a beard that frames his jaw perfectly.
And it looks good. Damn good.
His eyes land on mine, shoulders relaxing in…relief. I take a second to check him out again, blatantly, and I blame my hormones—again. I blink before whispering, “What’re you doing here?”
He gives me a soft smile. “I saw the appointment reminder you had on the fridge.”
“Oh,” I say sheepishly, cheeks heating. “You didn’t have to come.”
He shrugs, walking toward me and taking the empty chair next to me. “I know, but I wanted to be here for you. If that’s not okay, I can wait outside until you’re done. You make the call, Peach. I’ll do whatever you want.”
I swallow past the lump forming in my throat. With a nod, I stare at the man who showed up for me, without me even needing to ask.