Page 89 of Secret Baby for My Brother's Best Friends

It sounds dumb to my ears, but I don't know what else to say. Thankfully, the hostess comes around to lead us to our seat so he can take his eyes off me.

Good.Just that short bit of eye contact was nearly enough to give me a heart attack.

We’re led to a cozy booth in the far left of the room, with a gorgeous view of the pier.

“Wow,” I comment. “Best seat in the house.”

“It is. But next time, when the weather’s better, we’ll go for the rooftop. The view there is even better.”

Next time.It implies that he wants more dates with me. I shouldn’t let that sway me because he could very well be lying through his teeth, but a lot of silly romantic thoughts filter through my brain anyway.

Next time.

“So,” I say after the hostess takes our drink orders and leaves to prepare the first course. “Tell me about yourself. I realize I don’t know anything about you.”

“There’s not really much to know,” he says. “I grew up in a very average home in Oklahoma, and went to NYU for college, which is where I met Sam and Jake. I’m the oldest of eight.”

“Damn,” I exclaim, before I can catch myself. “Oh, I’m sorry. I just meant…”

“No, it’s okay. That’s totally worthy of an expletive.” His eyes twinkle. “Yeah, I don’t know what my parents were thinking, having that many kids. They definitely could not afford it, and they were both very busy people. My dad was in the military for most of my childhood, and my mother was a nurse who really loved her job and did not want to give it up. Which is great, but what that meant was that we rarely saw them.”

“And a lot of the childcare fell to you. Right?” It makes sense, then, why he was apprehensive about the pregnancy.

“Right.” He shrugs. “I’m not resentful over it, at least not anymore. I've worked a lot of it out in therapy, but I definitely won't be having that many hopefully."

I nod, but something in my head sighs. Hedoes therapy.

I can't help but be impressed.

It was difficult to even talk to Eric about seeing a therapist with me to work out our issues, or even alone. He had deep anger and trust issues, and though he had never hit me or even yelled much, he could sometimes go days without talking to anyone, simply seething over something minor. I told him that wasn’t normal. Told him that he needed to talk to someone, but according to him, therapy is for people who are too weak to handle real life.

Not that I ever believed him, but I don’t think anyone could look at Adam and call him weak. Even as he sits there, he oozes masculinity, power, and a self-assurance that is just so damn attractive.

“Therapy, huh?” I say with a smile. “Now I know how you deal with Sam and Jake on a daily basis.”

He chuckles. “Yeah. Therapy definitely helped with that, too."

“When did you start going?”

“After I got discharged. I did an eight-year stint, after which it was recommended to go see one for adjustment. I didn’t think I needed it since nothing especially terrible happened where I was stationed, but it turned out that I did need it. There’s just something about being in another part of the world and seeing the way other people live that can get to you. I mean…” He shakes his head. “I don’t even know how to explain it.” “I think I know exactly what you mean. In college, I did an exchange program in Zimbabwe, where we helped volunteer at a women’s shelter. That was the single most defining moment of my life. Nothing terrible happened, but it definitely opened my eyes to a lot of things I was willfully ignorant about."

“Yeah. Except this place was probably even worse. They'd been through wars before, and they didn't like us being there very much, which I totally understood. That’s kind of why I didn’t end up renewing. There was nothing really here for me stateside, but the more time passed, the more I started to feel less and less like there was anything for me there either. It kinda seemed like maybe they might be better off without us.” He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe I'm wrong."

"I don't think you are," I say. "But even if you are, I think that's okay too."

He smiles and then reaches over, stroking my cheek and running his thumb down it. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

“You should.” I surprise myself with my boldness, but I don’t regret it as he leans forward to capture my lips in a mind-scrambling, bone-tingling kiss. He tastes like coffee and mint, and a flavor that has me sucking on his tongue and wanting to drag him across the table.

When he leans back, I see stars for a second. My gaze is first drawn to his self-satisfied smile as he rests against his seat.

But then, for some reason, my eyes flicker over his shoulder. I don’t know what draws it, maybe movement or instinct or something else.

And I’m met with familiar eyes

My breath stops. Jaw drops.

It’s my worst nightmare.