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He nodded. It felt weird having this conversation while I was still crazy haired and sitting cross legged in a pile of my sheets and blankets.
“Would you sit, or something?” I said suddenly.
“Is this another seduction tactic of yours?”
“Was that a joke?” I asked, eyebrows raised.
He smiled. It was so rare to see him smile that my breath caught at the sight. But he moved and sat beside me on the bed, making the frame creak under his mass of muscle and height. Just being close to him still let warm little fireflies of delight loose inside my body. My throat was suddenly dry, and I forgot what we’d been talking about.
“I might not have pitched your story to my agent if I knew this was going to happen,” he said after a while.
“Why?” I asked. “It’s not like anything is going to come of it.”
“Actually,” Sebastian said. “He already got back to me. He loved it. He has some suggestions, but thinks it can be made into something he’ll be able to sell to a publisher, assuming you plan to finish it.”
“Wait,” I said. “You’re serious?” I felt dizzy.
“Yeah,” he said. “But if being a big time, real author is going to make you realize you’re too good for me, I may have to sabotage this.”
I punched his shoulder, which felt like it hurt my knuckles more than him. I stared at my lap, shaking my head. “I don’t think the human brain is made to absorb this much life-changing information in such a short period of time.”
He was watching me with a crooked smile. “And now you learn you’re going to be a published author.”
“And now that. But the part I’m having more trouble with is us.”
“Yeah,” he said softly.
“What happens now? Do we draw up some sort of agreement for shared custody? Do you reveal you’re going to have me killed once the baby is born and take it for yourself?”
“No,” he said. “I was hoping we could start over. Maybe try a version of things where we’re not at each other’s throats.”
“You do?” I bit my lip. My stomach was doing little nervous jumps.
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m done worrying how this will impact my writing. I want to try being happy and see where that takes me.”
“So,” I asked as I looked down, plucking at a loose thread on my shirt. “What you’re saying is you think I can make you happy?”
His hand was on my thigh and he’d turned to face me. He was so distractingly handsome I could barely think.
“I look forward to finding out,” he said. “We’ve got another week here to give it a try, at least.”
I wiggled my eyebrows. “Give me a hint, then. Did the part where I let you walk in on me naked make you happy? Because I could totally try that again.’
32
Sebastian
Kenzie and I formed our own imperfect routine to get through the rest of the retreat. The two of us had put nearly everything on the table. We had feelings. Real feelings. She was pregnant. I was the father.
The cards were on the table, but all it did was make both of us realize the stakes were higher than ever. Now we both cared about getting it right. Instead of jumping straight into her bed, that apparently meant I was compelled to behave. It also meant we were inching towards a confrontation of our feelings. I could feel both of us dancing around what was right there, plain as day. We wanted to make this work, and we didn’t want to screw it up.
It felt like the finish line was in sight, but there were still obstacles we needed to overcome if we wanted to cross it. I knew I needed to prove to myself that I was serious about this. I didn’t want to take the final step until I knew for certain I was entirely committed to Kenzie and our baby. We also needed a trial run on what it was like between us if I wasn’t actively trying to push her away for once. I had a feeling we’d know one way or another by the end of the retreat.
I let Kenzie force me to endure half an hour of interaction upstairs for breakfast and coffee first thing in the morning. Afterwards, we retreated to our room in the basement to write for a few hours. We took another break for lunch and socialization, which involved learning more than I cared to know about Astaire’s progress on Ghost Fucker. I also had to listen to Reggie talk about the dream he had. Apparently, he was now committed to writing an entire book without using a comma, because it was a sign of weakness.
Cooney seemed content to spend most of his time cooking, laughing, and generally having creepy perception skills. The antisocial couple, Frank and Margaret, continued to hide away in their room whenever possible.
