Page 150 of Stealing Blinds

“My mind is kind of a mess. I don’t even know why I started there.” She releases one of my hands to rub her forehead. “It was nothing. He was trying to get under my skin, talking about how he could give me all the things I wanted—stability and kids and … it doesn’t matter.”

Ice runs through my veins. “Sounds like it does, Sly. Help me understand. I already want to kill him, but—”

“No.” She brushes her fingers over my cheek, lovingly but still untethered. “It has nothing to do with him. I just hadn’t thought about what a future with us would look like. What you want and …”

I’m confused about what’s happening here, but I was planning to venture into this with her when we made it back to the yacht. “The drop is in a half hour. I want to have this discussion, but is now the best time?”

“It has to be now because if you’re going to freak out, I need to—”

“Freak out?” I scoff, straightening to regain my composure. “Please tell me this isn’t gonna be something about Peter convincing you that I would rather be single and fucking around? Tell me you don’t believe that because I have been working my ass off to show you and—”

“I know you have.” She reaches for me this time, gliding her hand over my thigh in an attempt to calm me while it’s evident there’s pandemonium happening inside her. “I know you love me. It’s not that. It’s just … you didn’t really sign up for this, and I … my mind is spiraling. It’s going to be a big change, and—”

“Neither of us can change our pasts.” I hop up, needing to move to keep myself steady. “You’re upset because I was with a lot of people, and that’s fair. Christ, I wish I could change my past. But I didn’t think you existed. I didn’t believe this could happen. So, I know it’s disheartening, but at least you know I’m in awe of your perfection. Your past is far more devastating, Sylv.”

“Mine?” She balks, her eyes wild. “That wasn’t even the direction I was going, but since we’re here, I know you’re possessive. And, yes, I’m experienced, but nowhere near—”

“Not that.” I wave her off and start pacing because I don’t want either of us to travel that road. “You gave your heart to someone else. That kills me. That he had that part of you.” I stop in front of her to emphasize how tormenting that is. “Every part of you. But I’m not going to fuck this up, being jealous. I will spoil you rotten, and eventually, any recollection of that bastard will be gone.”

“You’re jealous of Danny?” Her brows knit together as she stands to meet me toe to toe. “You shouldn’t be.”

It’s my turn to be aghast. “You had his ring on your finger.”

“Only because I didn’t understand what love looked like, but if I had known what I know now, I’d never have accepted his proposal.”

That stills me. I’ve been wondering about that, so I swallow and probe. “Because of how he treated you?”

“No,” she scoffs, like I’m an adorable moron, flinging her hand toward me. “Because of how you do. Because you show me what it means to be loved, but I …”

“No buts, Sylvie. Please, for fuck’s sake, put me out of my misery. Stop acting like you’ve got one foot out the door. I will not survive it. It’s been rough, but we are finally on track”—I gesture to the fluorescent-lit station outside the window—“literally, to better days.”

When she smiles at that, I take a deep breath and lay out all my cards. “You are my best friend. My heaven. My magic. I’m so in love with you. This isn’t how I planned to do this. But if you’re telling me you’re ready to get married, Sly, I’m all in. I have the ring, and—”

“You have a ring?” She staggers backward, hand on her sternum, as if I threw the ring at her.

“Yes.” I cross my arms over my chest in challenge. “With me.”

“With you?” she parrots, but there’s a hint of a smile that I am memorizing. “That’s fast, isn’t it?”

“Maybe.” I rub my chin, noting how clogged my throat is with emotion. “We both know how fleeting life can be, and I … I already know you’re it. I don’t want to waste time. I want the rest of our lives to start now.” As I scan her, I realize that the rare misfortune of not being able to read her is afflicting me, so I throw a little more into the pot. “I planned to propose on the yacht, but I care way more about the marriage than I do about the perfection of one moment. I will give you—”

“Wait.” She raises her palm, barely breathing. “There’s something else.”

“Nothing else matters,” I argue. “I told you that you’d always come first. And I meant it.”

Her face softens, most of the reservations she was holding melting off her, but there’s still the tint of apprehension coloring her cheeks and her tell-tale pout, revealing how unsure she is. “Nothing would send you running?”

“Nothing.” I step toward her, curling my hand around the back of her neck, baffled about what could have changed for us during a twenty-minute shower break on a train. “Talk to me. What happened?”

She bites her lip, glancing toward the windows, but not moving away. “First, let me say that this is not a good look for me. I swear this isn’t something I do. I … I swiped a test from Tessa. She had a bunch.” She pauses there, her eyes floating up to me as I piece it together. “I’m pregnant.”

The pronouncement wallops me, siphoning the air from my lungs. That was quick.

“Pregnant?” I scoop her into my arms, burying my face in the crook of her neck. “Fuck, baby, that’s amazing.”

“Amazing? Oh.” She pulls her head back, her radiant face marred with astonishment. “I thought you’d be mad.” She wiggles, so I extend a little breathing room—a little—while she goes on. “I really am on birth control. Or I was. It was the shot. The alarm was on my phone, but when we got to New Orleans, you took it. And with everything going on, I forgot.” She expels a heavy breath. “You seem happy, but I’m still sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about.” I peck her nose, but step back to share a transgression. “I have to make a confession that might make you angry.”