Page 66 of Everything But Mine

I spot Amanda. She’s offering a warm hug to some older woman I don’t know. Her hair is cascading over her shoulder, plum tendrils mixing in between her natural auburn. The angle makes her dress shift lower, and the swell of her breasts shows more than she’d probably planned. My breath stops. She’s my date today, and if she wants to dance, we dance, I think to myself as I walk over to her before I can second-guess myself.

She meets me halfway, and I exhale in relief when she places her hand in my stretched-out palm.

“Cat’s out of the bag,” I say. “Daray paid a visit to our table. He saw you while you were dancing.” I look at her lower belly. “It showed just enough.”

Amanda stiffens, but she gives me a sardonic smile. “I had a run-in in the bathroom. Cassie knows too.”

She doesn’t dare to ask me what I think we should do. But I know where we should start.

“Dance with me.” I tip my head to the floor, clocking Diego back at the DJ station, flanked by his sisters.

Amanda arches her eyebrow at me. I’m not known for dancing, I suppose. I fear she’ll say yes out of awkwardness or expectations or worse than anything… pity. Her smile widens, though, no trace of anything but joy as she nods.

Diego throws me a reassuring nod as I pull Amanda into me. Her hands slide behind my neck, smooth and warm, fingers grazing the ends of my hair just above my collar. I have been afraid of everyone seeing that I am not right for her, that she will finally draw the line and push me back into the friend zone for good. Instead, she steps so close our bodies press together, biting her bottom lip like she’s uncertain I’ll want her back. I settle my hands on her hips and breathe in the familiar scent of her hair as she rests her cheek against my chest. I pray my heart slows so I won’t give away how much I want her.

We both tighten our hold on each other, her fingers buried in my hair, and I grip her just shy above the curve of her bottom. Her belly presses into me. It’s noticeable by touch in a way it isn’t by sight, and the instinctive flare of pride shakes me.

Her breath fans my throat while we sway to the slow tune. This isn’t dancing as much gravity between us—the pull of a tether only we can feel. It’s steadiness. I know holding her isn’t enough to prove anything but right now, and I hope it doesn’t taste of wasted energy.

CHAPTER TWENTY

AMANDA

Eric smells of sage and eucalyptus, of earth and safety. Being held in his arms carries a particular weight, a heaviness that screams he’s afraid I’ll slip away if he lets go. It’s easy to get swept up in the feeling that I will never let go of him. Not ever. It’s delusional, this familiar brand of one-sided possessiveness flaring at the worst possible moment.

His heart pounds against my cheek, fast and uneven, sending an urgent message his lips refuse to give voice to. I don’t understand how he can carry this inside him, hold me as if I belong with him, and still throw it all away by never choosing me. Every time we crossed a line, he pushed me back. So why does he hold me like this is the only thing that has ever made sense?

Diego’s voice echoes in my head. “You didn’t know?” I didn’t. I want to crawl into Eric and apologize for ever leaving. I also want to slap him because I had to leave. After we kissed and he—I couldn’t stay. When I came back, I drew a hard line around that night and never spoke of it again. Eric did not push. He wanted to, but he never did. And the wounds stayed, quiet and unhealed.

People are watching. I can feel it. Friends, relatives, maybe even Daray. But I don’t care. I’m not hiding. Daray and Cassie may think they embarrassed me by pushing their narrative, but all it did was free me. Us.

Eric’s arms are tight around me, yet there’s no performance in the way he holds me, my barely noticeable bump. Us. His affection isn’t for anybody who is watching. It’s just for me.

This man who holds me like I’m a treasure has hurt me, and somehow, hurt himself even more. The realization steals my breath. It demands to show him I’m not leaving, that he’s a father to this baby in every way that matters.

I lift my face to his and whisper, my breath brushing his chin and raising goose bumps along his neck. “You promise you are all in with this?”

He pulls back slightly, light catching in his eyes and softening the amber. The pulse in his neck jumps.

“Let’s tell Daray,” I say. “Let’s tell everyone. That it is you, me, and this baby.” I rise onto my toes. “Kiss me.”

In my head, it is about telling people. In my heart, I just want to feel his mouth on mine, to be sure he is here with me.

We freeze inside this new possibility.

His whole body says yes. He slides one hand higher on my back, settling between my shoulder blades. He brushes his nose against mine. I lift my chin, and everything I have ever asked of him rushes through me.

Kiss me. Please, fuck me, Eric. Be with me.

Every moment he has ever refused me flashes through my mind. In this instant, he could undo all of it, heal me with a single kiss. His lips hover so close I can taste the wine on his breath.

Then he shifts away. There’s no time to feel hurt before he pinches the front of his slacks, his legs trembling, as he lowers himself onto both knees.

“Eric, what are you doing?” I hiss, heat flooding my face. People are definitely looking now. “Please, get up. Everyone’s going to think you’re proposing.”

A soft blush paints his cheeks before his lips settle into a smile. He brings his hands to my stomach, cradling the shape still mostly hidden by my dress.

“You wanted a declaration,” he says. “I want to give you one.”