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But holy shit, that was a good speech. A good speech, a good guy who was fessing up to his mistakes, and a very, very good ring.
I’d thought of him as a cheating piece of garbage for so long. But that hadn’t been fair. We had been kids, and he had done something stupid. He wasn’t a bad guy. All the things I’d loved about him were still there, and he’d learned from his mistakes on top of it.
Maybe that’s why I told him the truth.
“Zach, I . . . I’m pregnant.”
Wow, way to blurt Cynthia.
“What?”
“You asked me if it was serious, and it is. It happened kind of fast, but it’s not just a fling. And, well, I’m carrying his child.”
A look of devastation passed over his handsome face.
“I’m too late.”
I nodded.
“I should have come sooner. I wanted to wait until I knew for sure about the contract. I wanted you to be proud of me.”
I closed my eyes.
“I am proud of you, Zach. Proud of an old friend who shines a bright light on our neighborhood.”
“I can’t believe I was too late,” he muttered to himself, seriously looking like he might cry. “When did you meet him, Cynthia? How far off was I?”
I didn’t have the heart to tell him I would have turned him down anyway. And to be honest, I wasn’t sure I would have. It was obvious that he really had changed. That despite being who and what he was, he had learned humility.
We both had.
“Just a–a month. A little longer.”
If he had looked devastated before, the look on his face now was even worse. He closed his eyes and covered his face with one hand.
“Okay. I . . . thanks for telling me. I . . .” He reached into his other pocket and pulled out something else. An envelope. “I really did come here to talk about the church. Giving back and . . . shit.” He ran his hand over his buzz cut. “If you ever change your mind . . .”
The look in his eyes nearly tore me in half.
“Or if he isn’t good to you . . .” He tried to give me the box. I shook my head as he told me, “Just hold onto it.”
“He will be,” I said firmly, pushing the box away. “Good to me.”
He nodded, muttered, “He’d better be,” pressed a spontaneous kiss to my forehead, and was gone. I stared at the envelope in my hand then slowly sat back down on one of the benches Preacher had built out of pallets and donated tools. I ran my hand over the wood, carefully sanded and finished to keep anyone from getting splinters.
Wow. I had not been expecting . . . that.
I shook my head as if to clear it. Zach was my past. I rested my hand on my stomach and stared into space. This baby was my future. And hopefully, Preacher would be too.
If he didn’t get his ass shot again.
“What the hell was that?”
I looked up to see a stony-eyed man in leather looming over me. He looked wild. Dangerous. I was reminded again of the stark difference between the two men I’d had in my life. I was glad to see him, as pissed as I had been the past few days. My heart still leapt at the sight of him.
The butterflies might be gone with Zach, but with Preacher, they were putting on a freaking show. Then again, the morning sickness might have something to do with it. I took a sip of my ginger tea to steady myself.
It was time to tell him, I realized. I had to tell him about that baby.
Assuming he was sober this time.
I gave him a tentative smile.
“I have something to tell you, Preacher.”
“Who was that?” He narrowed his eyes, ignoring my words. He glared at me, not caring what I had to say. “Who was it, Cynthia?”
“Huh? Oh, that was Zach.”
“Your ex. You hanging out with him, now?”
“What? No! He said he wanted to do something for the church. Give back.” I held out the envelope. Preacher’s eyes glanced at it dismissively before snapping back to my face.
“So he didn’t try and get you back? He didn’t just give you a goddamn ring?”
I swallowed. Preacher looked furious. He must have seen the bling from across the street. Crap. This was not good. He looked like he wanted to find Zach and break his legs.
“He . . . well, he tried. I said no, Preacher.”
“What have you been doing to make that guy think he could come in here and ask you to marry him?”
“Nothing,” I stammered, feeling like a naughty schoolgirl in front of the principal. “He didn’t . . . he didn’t get a chance to ask. I wouldn’t let him.”
Preacher’s eyes were hard. Cold. It was like looking into a stranger’s eyes. I fought the urge to back away from him. This is Preacher, I reminded myself. Rough around the edges. Dirty. But not mean. Never cruel.
