CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Leanne
Twenty-Six Weeks ~ Baby is the size of an eggplant
The tap tap tap of my fingers on my now very obvious baby bump is mimicked in the knocking on my office door.
“How are you feeling?” Vivian asks, poking her head inside with a soft smile.
“Good,” I respond.
“Glad to hear it. I wanted to chat over a few details about your maternity leave,” she says, closing the door behind her.
I hold my breath while she takes her time getting comfortable in the seat across from mine.
“Breathe, Leanne,” she says with a grin.
“I just think we need a plan for how we ensure this department doesn’t self-destruct while you’re gone. ”
I blow out the breath, my lungs screaming at me for holding it for too long. There’s a renewed push against my hand from under my skin, a little bump of encouragement from my favorite person—one I haven’t even met yet.
“Do you think anyone on the team has the skills to cover your position? Or do we need to bring in outside help?” Vivian asks.
I slide some papers around my desk, giving the illusion I’m thinking about each person who works beneath me and what their skills are.
But it’s not even a question; I know exactly who I want to take over.
“Derrik is best suited. He’s been here longest and knows how I operate.
Plus, he’s worked with all the venues in some capacity.
If you’re asking for my recommendation, it’s him. ”
My boss nods along, a small crease between her eyes. “Derrik? Hmm. You don’t think maybe Veronica?”
I shake my head. “Veronica is great on the creative side of things, but Derrik will be more organized with the logistical side—the smaller details and how they fit into the whole picture. If you’re worried the venues are used to dealing with me, a woman…”
“No, I just…” She goes on the defensive and I smile to myself, recognizing the same bias in her I clearly had myself when it came to Bryce.
“I’ve worked with some incredible male event coordinators, and I think Derrik has all the skills needed to succeed in my stead. And I’d personally prefer to leave the department in the hands of someone I know and trust, rather than bringing in someone new.”
“Of course. If you think he’s the man for the job, then we can talk to him and see if he’d be on board with taking over while you’re gone. You could take the next—” She glances at my stomach.
“Fourteen weeks,” I supply, to fill in her thought.
“Right, fourteen weeks, to get him fully versed in everything you do before you go on leave. And… you’re planning on taking the full twelve paid weeks?”
“And the twelve unpaid weeks as well,” I state. This isn’t something I’ll budge on. I worked hard to get here and I love my job, but I spent long enough believing I wouldn’t get the chance to have a baby. I don’t want to miss out on those early months with her.
She swallows but doesn’t argue. “Okay. I’ll talk to Derrik and see what he thinks. Thanks, Leanne.”
When she walks out of the room, I slump in my chair and rest my head against the back, looking up at the ceiling.
I’ve gone over and over what I want my life, our life—mine, this baby’s… Bryce’s—to look like, and to be honest, I haven’t made much progress in figuring it out.
I still haven’t agreed to move in with him for the six months I’m on leave, and I can tell it’s taking everything in him not to ask, not to push.
We’ve gotten closer—especially after Christmas—but I don’t know how to fully let him in.
Letting him into my body felt easy, and with how riotously horny I am these days, I’ve been letting him in that way a lot the past four weeks.
But trusting him with my heart is harder, even if I think he may already have it… I’m just too scared to admit it.
It’s like we’re in this weird middle-place of wanting each other in one way and needing each other in another.
We need to be partners for this to work—for us to parent this baby together.
If I agree to move in, I know it’ll be more than two coparents living together to raise their baby girl—a baby girl he affectionately started calling butterfly after he first felt her move.
Am I ready for more? Is he? After Sarah, does he want another relationship? I don’t know, and I’m afraid to ask.
The doubts are always there in the back of my mind. He’s all in on the dad thing, but is he all in on me? I don’t want this baby to be the only reason we’re together.
And what happens when I go back to work after six months off? I don’t want to commute from the ranch every day, like I doubt he’ll want to move into town and do the commute the other way.
I know he’d do it, but would he want to?
I drum my fingers over my stomach as the anxiety ratchets up under the surface.
There will be nights and weekends we’ll have to work at our respective jobs.
Who takes care of her when those overlap and we both have events?
I’ve spent ten years building this career.
Letting it go and finding something new seems daunting and like such a waste of all the effort I poured into it.
But I don’t want to miss out on anything with her either.
Around and around I go. There’s no answer that makes sense, so once again, I push the thoughts away and hope for a magic answer to appear.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
I smile, my brain imagining it’s the magic answer on the other side of the door.
Candace, the receptionist, pokes her head in. “There’s a gentleman here to see you.” Her emphasis on the word gentleman and flushed cheeks pique my curiosity.
“Okay. I’m free now,” I say.
With a quick nod, she ducks out of the office.
I straighten my blouse and check my hair in the reflection of my computer monitor. I slicked it back into a ponytail this morning out of laziness. The positive side is every strand is still in place thanks to how I hairsprayed it to within an inch of its life.
A moment later, she’s followed into the room by the very man I was hoping against hope it would be.
Bryce’s head swivels around, taking in my office, before his gaze finally lands on me behind my desk.
My blood heats beneath my skin as his eyes rake down my body.
Now I’m the one blushing, and I catch Candace’s eye behind his back.
She shoots me a wink and fans herself for a moment before stepping out the door, and I have to hold back a laugh. She’s not wrong, this man is hot.
“What has you smiling, blondie?” His own smile is wide behind his beard and his eyes dance with mirth. “Couldn’t be me, now could it?”
Oh it absolutely could, but I dare not tell him that.
“You’re incorrigible,” I snark, but my cheeky grin stays firmly in place. I press my palms to the glass top of my desk and stand. He comes around to meet me, wrapping me in a hug that warms me from the tips of my toes to my already flushed cheeks.
My stomach presses against his. The movement that felt like flutters and then little bumps only four weeks ago has become full-on kicks and elbows now, and he chuckles when he pulls back. “She kicked me.”
“Yeah, she does that,” I offer with a shrug. “She kicks me all the time.”
His hand rests on my stomach, a motion he does all too easily these days. “How’s my little butterfly?”
If we were anywhere but my office, I’m pretty sure he’d bend and kiss my stomach, but he’s holding back. I wish he wouldn’t. It only makes him that much more attractive when he’s attentive to her.
“She’s good, very active today. What are you doing here?” I ask, stepping back. I need a breath of Bryce-free air, because his musky masculine scent does things to me that are wholly inappropriate for my place of work.
“I wanted to see if you’d like to have lunch with me and then maybe play hooky for the rest of the day. The rest of the weekend, if you don’t have events.” The hope in his voice is endlessly endearing.
I’ve never played hooky a day in my life. Not once in high school or even college did I miss classes for anything other than illness. And other than that first week of morning sickness, I’ve rarely missed a day of work either.
He continues. “I understand if you have plans, I know this is unexpected.”
“Seems to be our M.O.,” I say with a chuckle, looking down to where his hand still rests against my stomach. His returning laugh is deep and rumbly in his chest.
“So…” he prompts, fingers moving in a slow rhythm against me.
“Actually, I don’t have any events this weekend and I’ve caught up on everything I needed to do today as well… Your spontaneity may have just paid off.”
“Yeah?” he asks with unbridled eagerness, his eyes alight and his beard twitching up where his smile lifts his cheeks.
“Yeah, but… what did you have in mind? For the weekend?”
“I thought we could do a little staycation at my place.” He hesitates for a minute, slipping a piece of hair behind my ear. “Call it a trial run, for if you decide to move in after this little butterfly is born.”
“A trial run?” I say under my breath, letting the idea mull around in my brain.
“There’s no pressure, and even if you’d rather not stay the weekend, I do have something to show you at the house.” His eyes are earnest, open, and hopeful.
Maybe this will be what I need to figure out what the hell I want. At the very least, it can’t hurt… right? I nod, absorbing the warmth from his fingers against my cheek and lean into it. “Okay. Let me tell Vivian I’m taking off a little early and we can go get lunch.”
His smile grows and he crushes me in another hug. This one feels like more, and I hope I can withstand the desire for exactly that while I’m cooped up with him in his cozy house all weekend—long enough to figure out what I want and what he wants anyway.
“So, where to?” Bryce asks as we walk out the front of my building. We’ve had a dry week, so the sidewalks are clear of snow, but the temperature is frigid… or it would be if I weren’t essentially an oven.