Page 65 of Restored Dreams

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“What’s going on here?” I ask as I enter his kitchen.

Brut left to give me a moment to freshen up before coming downstairs, promising to make me waffles. He had mentioned in the past his home was run down and in need of a facelift, but what I see seems like a freshly painted house. The stairway leading down to his living room is light gray with white trim around the windows and the banisters have a dark wood railing. It’s beautiful and classic. The hardwood on the stairs matches the dark rail, and the floors in his living room look the same. The furniture is manly. Light brown leather chairs sit across from a dark gray couch. The item I notice first is a matching ottoman. The setting is modern. A flat screen hangs above a fireplace. The mantel holds black and white images of his family—Chopper, Hank as a rock star, Brut, his father.

I enter the kitchen to find white cabinets missing a countertop. A large Viking stove, industrial and stainless steel, graces the center of the main wall. My heart skips a beat at the appliance. I turn slowly, finding a farmhouse sink under a window. My eyes take in a double-door refrigerator, also stainless steel. The protective film still on the outside.

“What’s going on?” I repeat, taking in the full expanse of his small kitchen. A circular table centers the space with four chairs. The table doesn’t match the updated décor, but it’s obvious Brut has been improving his home, and it looks strangely like the kitchen I described in our game of what-ifs.

“Someone once told me if I didn’t like my house, I should rehab. I decided it’s time for a change.” Brut shrugs. He’s turned to face me, his back to the waffle iron which rests on a piece of wood over the cabinets as a makeshift countertop. “Maybe I’ll sell when I finish, but I’ll fix it up first and see what I think.” He turns back to the iron and removes a waffle, plating it and then motioning for me to sit at his table. A glass of orange juice awaits me.

“It’s like you’re nesting,” I say without thinking as I take my seat and thank him for the waffles. My mouth waters, and I suddenly feel like I haven’t eaten in weeks.

“What’s that?” He chuckles as he turns back to the iron and pours more batter into the grid.

“When a woman who is…” My voice drifts. Oh God, I choke on my words. Then I swallow. I don’t know how to tell him.

“What is it, Lil?” His voice softens as he looks at me over his shoulder. I shake my head, signaling nothing, but my heart knocks in my chest. Tell him, it growls.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of anything,” Brut begins. “You can stay here. You can’t return to live there, Lily. It isn’t safe. I don’t want you working in that location either, but first things first. Insurance claims and the landlord before any other decisions are made.”

“It’s not that,” I mutter, holding back the moan as a bite of waffle fills my mouth.

“Then what is it?” Brut takes the seat nearest mine, setting his plate on the table as he looks over at me.

“Nesting is when a pregnant woman prepares for having a baby. She cleans and reorganizes in preparation.”

“Oh.” Brut laughs nervously. “Well, I still want you to stay here.” He scrubs at back of his neck, staring down at the waffles on his plate. Tears fill my eyes, and I swallow.

“Lily pad, it wouldn’t be that bad, would it?” Hurt fills his eyes as he looks up at me.

“It’s not that, Brut.” All my life I’ve wanted to be with you. “I’m pregnant.” I let the bomb drop, and my voice lowers along with my head. I can’t face him. My skin prickles with the rejection he’s going to give me. The feeling he’s trapped all over again, this time from the beginning of the pregnancy and from the other sister.

His chair scrapes on tile floor, and I hold my breath. My chair moves, his hand on the seat, and I look up to find Brut lowering to a squat before me.

“Whose?” His question chokes him, and he swallows hard.

“Yours.” Panic fills me. How can he think it was anyone else’s? Was he with someone else in the time we’ve been apart? I want to cup his face as if to reassure him, but I worry that when the gravity of what I’ve said settles, he won’t want me touching him.

“Lily pad.” He scrubs a hand down his face, and I’m hyperaware of the scruffy scratch to his jaw. “How? When?”

“When we were on vacation. We didn’t exactly practice safe sex.” I take a deep breath. “I’m due in early June.”

Brut’s lips twist while his eyes lighten, almost dancing. “You have to stay with me now.” His voice is nearly a tease.

“Brut, I don’t want to be in your way. I don’t want you to feel trapped or feel like I did what my sis…” A large hand clamps over my mouth, and those eyes sparkling a moment prior darken.

“You will never be like her. Never compare yourself. I don’t feel burdened or trapped or anything else. Lily, with you, I’ve always felt…”

The momentary pause kills me as my heart races. “What?”

“Everything and beyond.”

A tear slips down my face as my head nods. I understand what he means because I’ve felt the same.

“Lily, stay here. Be with me.” His voice softens as he cups my face, begging me with his eyes, but I feel as if I can sense his heart. He wants me here. After a moment of his silent plea, he releases my face and lowers to my stomach. He kisses me over his T-shirt. His lips press on the cotton before his eyes leap upward.

“May I?” His hand already grips the edge of the shirt, lifting the material. When my stomach is exposed, Brut leans forward, pressing a more lingering kiss on my belly. His eyes close as his mouth remains on my stomach, as if he’s speaking to lima bean without words. My trembling hands come to his hair, brushing back the tendrils and combing through the white. We aren’t young anymore, I think.