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She’d been with me until I added the last sentence, then she gasped and shot me a frown. “I didn’t need a speech, don’t make me sound like a twat.”
On that note, I went to the kitchen and took a mug down out of the cabinet. I put it under my coffeemaker and hit the button. I rustled around for tea in a drawer. She’d moved in and taken up at least three drawers with tea crap. I hadn’t even complained. I’d just let her. She’d taken over my life and I had let her and why? Because I wanted this relationship.
If she couldn’t see that, I wasn’t sure what in the hell else I was supposed to do to prove it. Obviously make a toast but not take it so far that it was a speech. Find that muddy line and I’d give you a thousand bucks.
My back was still to her but I asked, “What is it you want to do about the visa, Felicia?” I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like her answer.
“I’m going back to England.”
I looked at her over my shoulder as I got a teacup down for her. “Just like that? No discussion, no input from me?”
She nodded. “It’s my decision.”
That pissed me off. Really pissed me off. “Except now you’re having my baby. So it’s not just your decision. I’m the father. I have a say, too.” A baby. What I desperately wanted. A child to love and raise. We were having a baby and here
she was talking about taking my flesh and blood away from me? Not happening.
She recoiled from the sound of anger in my voice. “I didn’t say I was going forever. Just while I wait for the fiancée visa.”
That mollified me slightly. “Not spousal?”
She shook her head.
“What if I don’t want you to go? Not just because of the baby but because I don’t want to be without you.”
“It’s the right thing to do,” she said. “Legally.”
“Fuck legally. Is that what you want? To be apart from me?” I picked up my coffee mug and took a big swallow, burning the fuck out of my tongue. “Ow, shit.” I set the mug back down, hard, splashing liquid over the back of my hand.
“No, I don’t want to be away from you. But we have to be logical because I am pregnant. I need to not screw this up.”
“I… me… where is the we in this?”
She eyed me. “So what would you have me do?”
“Marry me and stay here.”
“Why should I marry you, Michael?” she asked, her voice soft and contemplative.
Because I loved her. Because I’d been intrigued by her since the first minute I’d met her. But if she didn’t want to marry me, and she wanted to leave, I wasn’t sure now was the right time to tell her how I felt.
Damn it, I wished I’d told her sooner.
I made her tea and wished I could read her mind. I didn’t know the answer she was fishing for. I was failing the pop quiz and I hated that. “Because we’re having a baby and I don’t want to risk you getting stuck on another continent for who knows how long.”
She made a sound of frustration and dropped her feet to the floor. “No. That is never a good reason to get married.”
Wrong answer, then. Okay, I’d go with choice B. “Because we’re great together.” I brought the tea over to her and set it on the coffee table. “Because from the minute I found out you were the woman I’d been talking to, I knew we had a connection.”
She just shook her head slowly like I’d failed again.
“What do you want me to say?” I asked, frustrated.
“I want you to tell me that you love me.”
Fuck. I’d waited too long. I’d wanted it to be the right moment and now I’d waited too long and everything was all kinds of fucked up. “I love you, Felicia. I do. Trust me.”
“I don’t want you to say it now because I asked you to!” She stood up and took her tea and left the living room.
