Page 63 of Secret Baby for My Brother's Best Friends

While waiting, I quickly went down to clean out my car, then passed it through a carwash so that I could drive her home in a freshly washed car that wouldn't make her nauseous again.

Now, we're at her doorstep and I take her up.

"Thank you," she says.

"For what?"

"For today. I…” Suddenly, her face pales again and she looks like she’s about to throw up again. She stumbles and I catch her against my chest, staring down into her eyes.

“It’s okay,” I tell her. “You’re okay.”

“I don’t want to throw up on you.”

“You can do anything you want to me.”

19

CHELSEA

As he catches me against his body, I stare into Sam’s eyes, my voice going away at the tenderness I see in them. My dizziness clears, and my heart races. The sensual tension tightens, but it's not just that.

There's something deeper, something softer that I feel when I look at him.

I can't help but think of the great care he showed me all day, taking me to the hospital after I threw up in his car, caressing my hair while I waited for the doctor, being my rock throughout the visit, and somehow still having time to get his car cleaned before we left.

Eric would have complained. He would have said that I interrupted his workday with my nonsense, that I should have driven myself to the doctor instead of messing up his car.

He would have probably called me dramatic, too, for being scared about my symptoms and wanting extra blood tests to make sure the baby was okay.

But Sam never complained, even about how chaotic today has been. In fact, he’s taken great care to anticipate my needs, having hot tea and some soup for me, as well as some anti-nausea remedies. I don't know how he manage to get all this together in such a short time, but I can’t deny that it moves me.

Now, I'm staring at him, fighting the urge to let myself fall against him again, so he can wrap me up in his arms and make me feel safe.

But I have to push myself back, holding my hand against his chest, his quick heartbeat and his hard chest distracting me temporarily from what I was going to say. God, he’s so hot, and kind, and solid. Why does he have to be hot and kind? Why can’t he be some asshole that was good in bed or a nice guy who was terrible in bed? Why does he have to be the whole package?

“We can’t,” I whisper, when I finally manage to get my voice back.

“Why not?” he asks.

“Because,” I shake my head and say, "There are so many reasons why this can’t happen.”

“You’re not giving me any of them.”

Because I can't really think about anything right now.“I’m pregnant.”

“With my child, potentially."

“Yes, but it also might not be. It might be Adam’s or Jake’s.”

He thinks about it and shrugs. “I don’t mind.”

That shocks me into rearing back, eyes widening. “You don’t?”

“No. I don’t need to be blood-related to love and raise the baby.”

“No,” I shake my head. “That’s the thing. This is moving too fast. You’re talking about raising a baby that you don’t know is even yours. Why?”

“Because I want to be with you. And that baby is a part of you now, and if it’s a part of you, then ultimately it’s also my responsibility.”