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Chapter 40
Grace
Glancingaroundmybedroom,I grab the book on my bedside table and toss it in the bag I’ve packed. I have no idea how I’m going to feel walking into Cash’s apartment. I tried to get him to go there first saying I’d meet up with him in a bit, but he refused. Which just means that when I walk into the apartment, I’ll be doing it with him by my side. Is it too much to ask that he look the other way or something when I enter? I’m terribly nervous that I’m going to be unable to even step off the elevator from PTSD.
Why did I have to call Cat today? If I’d had anyone else to call, I honestly would have. Especially if I’d known she was with Cash. But I should have known better. Of course, she would have told him even if he hadn’t been with her. They are thick as thieves. Besides, I didn’t have anyone else.
Ugh, why did I go to the hospital?
The bleeding started this morning, and although it was light it made me nervous. I’m not sure if the cramping was in my head because I was bleeding, or if I was really doubled over in pain like I felt, but suddenly the anxiety over losing the baby became too much and I just lost it.
I completely lost it.
And now, because I overreacted, I have to go spend the night at Cash’s.
Last night the idea of spending the night with Cash was sexy. Now he’s looking at me like I could break, he’s monitoring the way I step, and watching to see if I touch my stomach. I know he cares, but it’s smothering.
If not for the fact that it’s more than just me I have to consider, I’d tell Cash to mind his own business and stay by myself. But it’s not just me. The doctor said I need to take it easy and monitor the symptoms. As much as I want to believe I can do everything on my own, there are certain times when I have to put aside my pride for the baby and accept help. I owe this baby everything my mother didn’t give me. I have to put the baby first.
“You alright in here?” Cash asks, peeking into the room. He looks tired and worried which reminds me that he genuinely cares about me.
I put my hesitations aside and meet his gaze. “Yes. Let’s go.”
Cash goes to grab my bag from me and stops at the bedside table, picking up my glasses. “Don’t you need these?”
I stare at them and then look back up at him. It’s absurd that the sight of my glasses in his hands is going to make me cry, but here we are again, with tears filling my eye lids. “I don’t wear them anymore.”
Cash eyes me critically and it’s like he immediately knows it’s because of him. “I love you in glasses,” he whispers.
I nod.
He stares at me for another moment and then he puts down the bag and reaches out to straighten my shoulders so I’m facing him. With slow movements he opens the glasses and then looks up as he holds them to my face. “May I?”
It’s like I’m seeing him clearly for the first time in a long time. I nod as he slips them onto my face and then he cradles my chin. “Don’t ever change yourself for anyone, Angel. Least of all a bastard like me.”
I sigh, trying to accept his words, and mumble a simple, “Okay.”
As we walk to the car, I take a deep breath of fresh air, willing the smell of winter to infiltrate my lungs and not the scent of Cash. He’s like poison to my senses. The oaky spice takes me back to the early months, to falling in love, to being possessed.
Right now, I need all my senses to keep me strong, to keep me out of Cash’s bed and in my own.
I know Cash promised last night that he wouldn’t come near me until he proved he could be trusted, but I can’t promise I’ll do the same. I’m falling apart right now and would love nothing more than to be held by him all night. But once we cross that line it will be hard to redraw the boundaries.
“You hungry?” Cash asks.
“Starving, actually,” I answer honestly.
Cash smiles. “For anything in particular?”
“Pizza?” I ask, eyeing Cash pensively.
He breaks out in wide smile. “Whatever my girl wants, my girl gets. Hear that, Frank? Let’s stop for Luigi’s.”
Frank nods in the front seat and I bite back a smile. “You know it’s weird that you sit in the backseat when he drives, right?”
Cash laughs. “I pay him really well.”
“He’s your best friend,” I counter.
