What kind of mother will I be? Jesus. I was so shaken by the news and all the shit that preceded it, I didn’t even think about his or her well-being.
Liam watches the traffic. But he is still here. The ultrasound confirmed the baby is most probably Romeo’s, and I’ll be a single mother.
It didn’t deter Liam. He is still here, refusing to take the exit I offered. I wasn’t prepared for that.
“Is it helpful?” I watch his flexing fingers.
He frowns before he follows my gaze. Lifting his hand, he flexes his fingers a few more times. “Sometimes more than others. I used to have panic attacks, and flexing my fingers helped me to ground myself. I don’t have them anymore, but the habit is still strong.”
I want to continue talking abouthim.
On the one hand, there is the need to learn more about this man, to fill in the gaps with facts, to replace the assumptions.
We know shit about each other. That’s not what our relationship has been, and for some reason, it makes me sad.
Loss without ownership. Grief without permission.
But my need to talk is more selfish. If we talk about him, I might get out of my head.
At the moment, I can’t be thinking about me, the baby, the future. It’s too much.
“What happened to your knuckles?” He must have punched something. Or someone? Jesus.
“One of those times when flexing didn’t help.” He squeezes his fist and lowers his hand, not looking at me.
“Does it hurt?”
“Physical pain is the least of my worries right now, Thunder. How are you?”
I flinch. The question lands like a shove toward an open edge. No, no, no, I can’t go there. I don’t know how I am. Desperate to keep the topic on him, I say, “I can’t imagine you had panic attacks. Is that why you don’t socialize?”
“You noticed.” He chuckles humorously.
“I was surprised when you took me to the restaurant. I didn’t think you enjoyed crowds.”
He nods. “You were not eating. I had to do something.”
“So you sacrificed your comfort,” I tease. “Or you were hoping to get information out of me.”
He winces, but then he shrugs. “It paid off.”
“I didn’t have information to share. You didn’t find out anything.”
“I found something.” He turns to me, boring his eyes into mine.
My breath hitches, the memory of us in the cloakroom rushing heat into my cheeks. Liam holds my gaze, and the small space gets hot.
I swallow and press my thighs together. What the hell?
Oh my, I’ve been so horny because of the pregnancy. I remember reading about it somewhere.
I look away, not sure how to respond to his scorching gaze. Why is he still here? He must have calculated that it can’t be his child. And yet he’s looking at me like… like he cares.
“Where are we going?” I snap out of my spiral when the car stops on a street in front of a row of brownstones.
“My brother is in Tuscany with his wife for a few months. I asked if I could stay at his place.”
“Oh.” His words sting of rejection.
