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But things weren’t normal, and while he tended to be pretty easygoing about most things that didn’t involve Bijoux, he wasn’t okay with being easygoing about this. Not when she was carrying his child. And not when they had so much to figure out.
By the time their meal had been cleared and he had ordered dessert—she had passed, but he hoped to tempt her with some lemon marscapone cheesecake—he was more than ready to talk about their son and what arrangements they were going to make for him.
Desi seemed to sense his mood, because she stopped right in the middle of the story she was telling and looked at him.
He didn’t like the apprehension in her eyes, or the way her body tensed as if she was waiting for a blow. He’d spent his whole life charming women. The last thing he wanted was for the mother of his child—for Desi—to be afraid of him.
Reaching across the table, he slid his hand down her hair. She startled at his touch, but he didn’t move his hand away. Instead he pushed an errant lock behind her ear. Then he skimmed a finger down the soft curve of her cheek.
Her eyes drifted shut at the first touch of his skin on hers and she swayed a little. Leaned her cheek into his hand. And, just that easily, the fire that had burned so hotly on the night they met reignited.
It had been eighteen weeks since he’d held her, eighteen weeks since he’d kissed his way across her shoulders and down the delicate curve of her spine. But he still remembered what she felt like against him, around him. Still remembered the way she moaned when he slipped inside her and the way she raked her fingers down his back when she came.
“Let me take you back to your place,” he said, his voice hoarse with a desire he didn’t even try to hide. “Let me make you feel good.”
Her eyes flew open at his words, and in their depths he saw the same arousal he was feeling, the same need. But there was a reluctance there, too, that spoke of confusion and conflict, and he knew—no matter how much he wanted her—he couldn’t have her. Not now. Not when things were still so unsettled between them.
So he pulled back, let his hand fall away from her cheek.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve made such a mess of things.”
She had, but he wasn’t going to blame her for it. Not when he’d made his share of mistakes, too. He was the one who had erased her number from his phone. He was the one who hadn’t been diligent about listening to his messages and had ended up missing the most important voice mail of his life.
“That’s why we’re starting over. No more messes to clean up, from either of us.” Because his head was still a little cloudy with desire—and it wasn’t the only part of his anatomy to feel that way—he leaned back in his chair and took a long sip of water while he tried to get his thoughts together.
“Look, I know you want to talk about the baby, but I’m not sure what to say about that yet. I’ve spent the last three months thinking I’m going to be doing this alone and now you’re here and you want to be involved. That’s great, but I need time to adjust.”
“I get that. I do. And we’ve got time to figure everything out. But I want you to know that you aren’t in this alone anymore.”
“I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do,” he told her. “I don’t just want to be a part of the baby’s life after he’s born. I want to start now. You’re pregnant and, I don’t know, pregnant women need things, right? If you do, I want to be there to help you out.”
For long seconds, Desi didn’t say anything. Which was fine, because she didn’t reject his words outright. But the longer she kept him waiting, the more anxious he got. He’d already threatened her once today about the baby. He didn’t want her to think he was doing it again.
But just as he opened his mouth to explain, she said, “I’m okay with that.”
“You are?”
“You don’t have to sound so surprised,” she said with a laugh.
“I’m not. It’s just… I was a real ass about the baby earlier and I’m sorry. I don’t want you to think this is a part of what happened before because it’s not.”
“Hey, you’re the one who keeps talking about a clean slate. I think that’s supposed to work both ways, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. I guess it is.”
She nodded, then took a deep breath. Let it out slowly. “So, you want to be a part of the pregnancy?”
“Absolutely.” He thought back to when he was in the park earlier, to the father and the son who’d been at the swings when he was walking by. He wanted that, more than he’d ever imagined possible, and he was going to do whatever he had to do to get it.
“Okay. I have a doctor’s appointment next week. You could come to that if you want.”
“I do want to. But I want more than that, as well.”
“More?” She looked confused. “That’s pretty much all there is at this point. A doctor’s appointment once a month and then, when I’m closer to my due date, one every two weeks. And, I should probably warn you, they aren’t very exciting appointments, you know? I pee on a stick, I listen to the baby’s heartbeat—which, I admit, is the best part. Sometimes the doctor takes my blood. But that’s it.”
“It sounds pretty good to me.”
