Millie seemsfine.
At least, this is what I think until I hand her up into the Tundra, pressing my palm into the small of her back. She’s wound tighter than a guitar string. The kids are climbing into the back, arguing with each other, so I steal an opportunity.
When her behind lands on the seat, I squeeze her thigh. Millie jumps, but at least she meets my eyes. And the expression in hers is guarded. Wary.
I hate it.
I squeeze her thigh again. “Before the end of the night,” I tell her, my voice low, for her ears only, “we’re talking. I don’t care how late it is.”
Millie triple blinks. Her mouth falls open. Then closes. If I had to guess, she’s somewhere between startled and terrified. What the hell?
She opens her mouth again, but suddenly her blue eyes are awash in regret. “I don’t know if I’m up for that tonight.”
Not up for it? Talking to me?
A trap door opens in my stomach. My mind immediately swings toward the worst possible scenario. I told her about the condom. She’s worried she’s pregnant. And now, despite giving me her love, she’s having doubts. About us.
About me.
“Why are you just standing there, Luc?” Emmett pipes up from the back seat, bouncing like he’s spring-loaded. “Let’s go!”
Part of me wants to drag Millie inside and have this out now. But I grit my teeth and close her door.
I drive, but the grip I have on the steering wheel is merciless. At first, my anger is a slow boil, just barely contained. She doesn’t want to talk to me? Fine. She doesn’t have the courage to tell me I’m not her first choice? That’s fucking fine, too. It’s not like I’m not used to that.
Ronni couldn’t come out and say it. Left her phone with her messages open right where I’d see them. Right where I’d read her boss’s dirty texts.
And Papi? Every time I talk to him, he comes as close as he can to saying he’d rather be pushing up daisies than watch me at the helm of the business.
The heat of my anger and the acid burn of bitterness are good at first. Distracting. Consoling. But by the time we get to my parents’ house, I know they are just shields.
Because if Millie doesn’t want me—if I’m not her first choice—it’ll slay me. It’ll hurt worse than anything.
She’s mine. Mine in a way Ronni never was. Mine more than the business could ever be.
Mine because in the short time I’ve known her, somehow, my heart has moved out of my chest and now beats inside her hands.
We’ve said next to nothing on the drive over, relying on the kids’ chatter to fill the cab of the truck. And I’m grateful for them because they rush inside, through the garage door, into the kitchen, and the voices of Mami, Abuela, and my cousins rise in greeting. Millie slips inside, and I bring up the rear, forcing a smile at the excited crowd.
The kitchen is so full, I have to squeeze in behind Millie to shut the door. Her hair smells like love. Selfishly, I lean in, pull her scent in deep. If I press her to talk tonight, this might be the last time I get close to her. I clasp a lock of her blazing hair between my fingers.
“Dios ten piedad,” I whisper in prayer.“Por favor, déjame conservarla.”
Millie turns, looking back at me over her shoulder. Her gaze is so warm and curious, it gives me hope. “What did you say?” she whispers, her eyes searching.
I swear, I’m about to answer her truthfully, tell her that I’m begging God to let me keep her when Abuela, her face alight, pushes up from the kitchen table.
“¡Dulce Cristo!”she cries at Millie, clasping her hands over her heart.“¡Estás embarazada!”
“¿Qué?”Mami shouts, eyes wide.
“¿Qué?”My aunt and cousins ask each other.
“What?!”Mattie shrieks, turning to Millie, looking betrayed.
Millie throws her hands up. “What? What did she say?”
I drop a hand on Millie’s shoulder, but before I can say anything, Mattie blinks, her big eyes more worried than ever. “She said you’re pregnant! Is it true?”
