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His words cause my heart to slow and squeeze tightly in my chest. I look at him and ignore the stinging of tears in my eyes.
“What do you want from me, Blue?” I ask, my voice sounding as winded as I feel. My knees are weak. I think that if he wasn’t holding my hand so tightly, I might melt right where I stand.
“You, Doe. I want you. All of you. I’m fucking ecstatic we’re having a child, but if there was only you and Adam, I’d still be right here, begging you for another chance. I. Want. You.”
“I don’t know if I’m brave enough,” I respond, closing my eyes.
“You are and I’m going to give you every fucking reason I can think of to make you want to hold onto me this time,” he promises as his lips connect with mine.
Maybe I should pull away, demand he take me back home. That might be the smart thing to do. Instead, I open for him, my tongue searching his and I lose myself in the sweetest kiss I’ve ever had.
Chapter 32
Blue
“I ate too much,” Meadow says quietly as she helps me gather the dishes. I smile down at her and bend down and kiss her lips. It’s a kiss that’s way too brief, but the small touch soothes the nerves inside of me for a little longer.
I’m worried I pushed her too hard. It couldn’t be helped. I couldn’t allow her to walk out. I couldn’t lose her—not again. We still need to discuss Diana, but I don’t want to bring her up. She’s a poison and I don’t want to allow her to infect what Meadow and I have begun here.
With Meadow, I am learning that I need to tackle one thing at a time. It’s going to take me a while to work past her distrust of me. Maybe I should go back and ask Mom’s advice again? She’s the one that told me to start being gentle with Meadow and that seems to be working. I’m such a damn fool. I’ve been so wrapped up in self-loathing and living in the past that I almost lost her all over again.
“You need to eat more,” I murmur rinsing off the dishes we’ve gathered. As if reading my mind, Meadow opens the door to the dishwasher and stacks the dishes.
“If I eat anymore tonight, I’m going to pop,” she laughs.
“Maybe hold off on that until Tiger is ready to come out and see the world,” I joke.
“Tiger?” she laughs, her hand going to her stomach. “I don’t think she likes being called Tiger.”
“She? You think it’s a girl?”
“I have no idea, but it’d be kind of poetic justice if you had to deal with a girl—especially when she’s a hormonal teen.”
“That sounds like a mom’s territory,” I correct her, as we make our way into the living room.
“Wait. Let me get this straight. There’s a mom’s territory and it’s different from a dad’s?” she asks as we sit down on my huge, leather sectional.
I loved this thing when I first bought it, but tonight, I’m wishing it was a lot smaller. In the end, I decide to say fuck it and just sit really close to her anyway. I gather her up in my arms, and I’m rewarded when she snuggles into me instead of pulling away.
“There is,” I whisper, placing a kiss on her temple.
Her hand comes up to rest against my chest as she settles in my arms. This feeling of peace mingles with pleasure, and I’ve never felt anything better in my life.
“Maybe you should explain the difference for me. You know, so I know exactly what my part is when raising this little peanut,” she laughs, patting her belly.
I watch the movement with a smile. I can’t wait to see her stomach grow with our child. The thought of Meadow’s stomach tight with our child inside of her is a fantasy that I never allowed myself to indulge in.
“Okay, so if peanut is a girl, then as her mother you’re in charge of potty training, mood swings, facts of life talk, birth control, and any issue that has to do boys and hormones.”
I can feel her body jerk with laughter that she’s trying to keep smothered. She looks into my eyes, her sweet, pink lips stretched into a smile.
“So, basically you’re giving me the hard stuff if she’s a girl?”
“Blasphemy! Of course, I’m not. I’m the one that gets the hard stuff.”
“You do?” Now, she’s just giggling. “Please tell me this hard stuff that you’re in charge of, Moonie.”
“You dare laugh at me? I’m being serious here. I mean, I’ll have to deal with bedtime snuggles.”
“Oh, that’s a bad one,” she mutters, rolling her eyes.
“It is. I mean, I’m a man who doesn’t do touchy-feely, and I’ll have to hold her every night, cuddle her, and tell her that she’ll always be safe. Every little girl deserves to hear that, and it will be my job.”
