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I look down at the coffee. Let out a sigh. “Yeah.”
“Chin up.” She puts her hand on my arm. “You’re only tied to this guy for the rest of your life. You’ve got plenty of time to figure out how you feel about him.”
I laugh. “Thanks again for the impromptu delivery service.”
“Anytime. And don’t forget brunch tomorrow! The girls and I want to talk about your shower.”
“My shower?”
“You knew we’d want to throw you a baby shower. I know it’s early, but let’s at least pick a date and get you going on your registry, all right?”
I feel a familiar swelling in my throat. “Thank y’all. Really. I couldn’t do this without you.”
“It’s an honor to be part of your village.” She gives my arm a squeeze. “This sweet baby is gonna get a lot of love. See y’all later. And say hi to Greyson for me and Luke!”
I close the door and take a breath. I’m smiling and tearing up all at once.
The moment I found out I was pregnant, things were looking pretty grim. I felt like shit, I was having a baby with a guy I did not like, and I felt very, very alone.
But now, in the space of a couple months, all that has changed. I didn’t think I’d ever feel this full or this…hopeful, I guess, ever again.
I’m starting to see glimmers of the magic of parenthood everyone talks about.
I’m starting to get excited about this baby.
About being a mom.
“Jesus, Julia, I was worried you left.”
My stomach dips so hard and so suddenly at the sleep-roughed sound of Greyson’s voice, I nearly drop our coffees.
I spin around to find him standing in the hall a few paces from me. Barefoot. Dark hair everywhere. Blue eyes trained on mine as he runs a hand over his stubble.
My.
Fucking.
God.
Desire, hot and sudden, catches between my legs. Stays there, pulsing.
“My bed was empty,” he continues, crossing his arms over the barrel of his chest. “Couldn’t find you anywhere. Thought maybe I’d scared you off.”
“Lucky for you, I don’t scare easy,” I manage. “Even when you’re being your growly Satanist self.”
His eyes do that thing where they light up. Smile. He nods at the goodies in my hands.
“What’d ya get?”
“Breakfast. From Holy City Roasters. Wasn’t sure how you took your coffee, so I went with black.”
“Like my soul?”
I grin. “Exactly.”
“Lucky for you, that’s actually how I like it. C’mon.” He tilts his head toward the kitchen. “Let’s eat.”Chapter SeventeenJulia“So I was thinking,” Greyson says, licking a stray bit of melted cheese from the tip of his first finger.
“What were you thinking?”
I sip my coffee. God that’s good. Before I got pregnant, I was the first person in line at Gracie’s coffee shop when it opened at six A.M. Hands down, her cold brew is the best I’ve ever had. I order a small these days instead of my usual large, but I’m grateful I didn’t have to give it up altogether. I would really be a zombie without my daily dose of caffeine.
“Now that we know everything is looking good with Charlie Brown, I’d like to tell my parents.”
I look at him. Pale morning sunlight streams through the kitchen windows and catches on his stubble, turning the ends to gold.
“Okay,” I reply.
Greyson meets my gaze. “Would you like to do it with me? My mom is making Sunday supper tomorrow. Come.”
A familiar heat prickles to life behind my eyes. I blink, hard, my lips working their way into a smile.
This means something. Greyson opening up his family to me.
Greyson opening up at all.
“Last night you were talking about what a bummer it is that you don’t get the chance to share the news with your parents,” he says. “I want you to have a chance with mine. I want you to meet them, Julia.”
I’m biting my lip again, Anastasia Steele style.
I’m overwhelmed. All this goodness. Greyson’s scruff and this coffee and his kindness.
Kindness that is turning me on something fierce right now.
“I’d love to.”
He grins, and I swear to God the sun burns through the windows even brighter.
“I have to warn you.” He takes a bite of his sandwich. “My family is great, but the energy and the attention can get overwhelming.”
“I’m okay with that.”
“You say that now, Julia, but you haven’t met my mother. Ever since Bryce—Ford’s daughter—was born, Mom’s been dying for more grandchildren. There will be screaming. And about fifty thousand questions, most of which will be very personal and/or totally inappropriate.”
Laughing, I finish my sandwich. Before I’m done wiping my hands on my napkin, Greyson is breaking the pumpkin scone in two and placing half on my wedge of tin foil.
Why?
Why does this simple gesture make me feel like I’m about to smile or cry or both?
“What?” he says in reply to the look I give him. “Charlie Brown likes sweets. So does his mom. Y’all inhaled that ice cream last night.”
