“Some of them are… surprisingly well-written.” He sounded embarrassed. “And I’ll admit the novels have given me some interesting insights into human courtship rituals.”
“Human courtship rituals?”
“The protagonists always seem to engage in elaborate miscommunication before admitting their feelings. It’s remarkably inefficient.”
“Says the man who apologized for kissing me and then avoided me for three days.”
“Point taken,” he said ruefully
She grinned into the darkness. “Besides, the miscommunication is part of the appeal. The tension. The wondering.”
“I dislike tension.”
“I’ve noticed.” She shifted on the bed, getting comfortable. “What else have you noticed from the romance novels?”
“That grand gestures are apparently important. And that the male leads tend to be either broodingly overprotective or charmingly roguish. I’m not sure which category I fall into.”
“Definitely brooding. Though you have moments of charm.”
“Only moments?” He sounded amused.
“You’re working on it.”
They talked until her eyelids grew heavy and her words started to slur with exhaustion. She didn’t want to hang up and lose the warm intimacy of his voice in her ear, the gentle back-and-forth that felt like the beginning of something real.
“You’re falling asleep,” he said softly.
“Not yet.” A yawn betrayed her.
“Chloe. You need to rest.”
“So do you.”
“I will. After you hang up and go to sleep properly.”
She smiled into the pillow. “Bossy.”
“Doctor’s orders.” His voice was warm with affection. “Sleep. I’ll call you tomorrow if you’d like.”
“I’d like that.” Her eyes drifted closed. “Victor?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you. For trying. For calling. For being willing to—” She yawned again, losing the thread of the thought.
“Sleep, Chloe.”
“Mmm. Night.”
“Goodnight.”
She ended the call and set the phone on the nightstand, burrowing into the blankets with a contentment she hadn’t felt in months.
He was trying, reading the journal and questioning his assumptions. And he’d called just to hear her voice.
In the darkness, the baby shifted, pressing tiny limbs against her ribs. She rested her hand on her belly, feeling the flutter of movement.
“He’s worth it,” she whispered to her unborn child. “I think he’s worth the risk.”
