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He cracked a smile, a small one, but I caught it, nonetheless. “I think mine would kill me if she found out I wasn’t helping raise a child that I helped create, so you’re not wrong. Really, I should be thanking you for saving my life.”
“You should.”
He lifted his head, draining his wine before placing the empty glass onto the coffee table. “Thank you.” He leaned toward me, just an inch, his posture relaxing further. “What do we do after the baby is born, though?”
I bit my lip, averting my gaze to hide the sudden uneasiness in my gut. I’d tried not to think that far ahead—every time my mind had wandered in that direction, it seemed to spiral, to sink below the depths and make me fully fucking panic. We couldn’t get married, I knew that much. I didn’t want an eventual divorce, not when I’d be doing damage to the child growing inside me and Jamey as well. We could put off the wedding, blaming the stress of pregnancy and then the stress of the baby, but I didn’t want to be in a perpetual, endless fake relationship. At least not with someone I didn’t have feelings for.
And I definitely did not have feelings for Hudson. I couldn’t, I wouldn’t. I was attracted to him, sure, and the sex was incredible. But I wasn’t about to go having feelings for someone who wasn’t willing nor appeared even capable of having feelings for me in return. I’d been down that road too many times. I knew how it ended.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I’ve tried not to think that far ahead.”
He nodded in response to my answer. “Got it. Well, I’ll do some thinking, see if I can come up with any solutions. Okay?”
“Okay.”
I watched the way his pupils dilated as he stared at me, the way his eyes glanced across my features, the way his mouth parted as if he had more to say. There was a part of me that wanted to believe that somewhere inside of him, Hudson cared for me at least a little bit. I knew I was fond of him, maybe a little too much. But I was being cautious in allowing myself to feel anything in the first place. I definitely wasn’t going to put myself out there expecting to hear words I knew didn’t really exist.
This was far too complicated for my pregnancy-brain.
“Do you want to go get dinner?” He asked, the veil of stoicism falling back over him, extinguishing any lingering hope that remained. “I’ll buy.”
I smiled lightly at him as I tugged at the side of my shorts. “Not really dressed for it.”
“I can wait. Jamey’s with my mom tonight, so I have all evening.”
“That’s really nice of you, but honestly, I’m exhausted. I was going to get a bit more work done and then hit the hay. A rain check maybe?”
The edges of his lips drew down, the hallmark of disappointment, but he blinked it away. “That’s fine, no worries. You really should eat something though,” he insisted, pushing himself up from the sofa and grabbing his empty glass. “I’ll order you takeout. Pizza okay?”
“Hudson—”
“It’s fine, I don’t mind. I’m going home anyway so you won’t have to deal with me,” he chuckled.
“I…”
“You like pepperoni, right? I’ll order from the place I got it last time. Shouldn’t be too long.”
I watched him like a hawk as he walked toward the kitchen, placing his glass directly into the dishwasher. God fucking dammit, why did he have to have such good manners, too? Other than barging into my house uninvited. “Okay,” I relented.
He grinned at me from across the room, the kitchen counter dividing us. “Do you want to watch Jamey again? I could really use your help this week.”
Now that was something I could be enthusiastically happy about. “Absolutely. I missed the little squirt.”
Chapter 27
Hudson
Sunday
Although Jamey loved going to his grandparents ninety-nine percent of the time, the excitement he showed every time I walked through the door to pick him up always tugged at my heartstrings.
“Daddy!” The sound of his little feet padding across the tile floor in their obnoxiously grand entryway accompanied his ecstatic voice, and as he ran toward me, that smile a mile long across his cheeks, I couldn’t help but think that soon he’d joined by another little set of feet.
“Hey, bud,” I grinned, kneeling down so I could scoop him up into my waiting arms. His legs wrapped around my waist, his arms around my neck. “Did you have a good time with Grandma and Pop-pop?”
He nodded excitedly before placing a little kiss on my cheek. “Grandma taught me how to make a… um… adult drink? The juice stuff I’m not allowed to have.”
For fucks sake, she taught him how to make a cocktail? “Of course she did.” I rolled my eyes as I set my keys down on the table, carrying Jamey through the entryway and toward the main sitting room. My dad was laying on the sofa, his legs kicked up on the recliner, golf playing on the large screen that sat above the imposing stone fireplace. It was one of those televisions that were meant to be placed slightly farther away due to its size, but it was a status symbol for them. “Hey, Dad.”
