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She shrugs. “Not really, but I do miss beer.”
“I’ll pick you up some non-alcoholic beers the next time I’m at the brewery.”
She rolls her eyes. “You don’t have to take care of me. I can take care of myself.”
She might be able to take care of herself, but I don’t want her to have to. I want to be the one who takes care of her and our baby.
“Shall we sit?” I motion to the sofa, but the second my butt hits the cushions, I bounce back up again and begin pacing. I must have walked a marathon today with all the pacing I’ve done.
She sips on her water as she studies me from beneath her lashes. She doesn’t speak, though. She waits me out. She’d probably wait me out forever. The woman is the reason the word stubborn exists.
I decide actions speak louder than words. I shove the letter into her hands. “Here.”
I keep my gaze trained on her as she reads. By the time she finishes, her eyes are the size of saucers.
“Are you out of your mind?” she screeches. This is not the response I expected.
“I thought you’d be pleased.”
“Pleased?” She stands and pokes my chest. “Pleased?”
I capture her hand and place it over my heart. “Yes?”
“You thought I’d be happy you quit your job? You have lost your ever loving mind!”
“No, I haven’t,” I defend myself. “It’s just a job.”
“Just a job?” She tries to wrench her hand away, but I hold on tight. “It’s the job. The one you’ve wanted your entire life. The one you’ve been working your ass off at to make partner.”
“I am aware.”
“Don’t be trite with me. I’m being serious here.”
I cock an eyebrow. “You think I’m not being serious? I’m the one who’s resigning from his job.”
“I don’t want you to resign. I didn’t tell you about Bob and my insecurities to get you to resign.”
“I know you didn’t.”
She carries on as if I didn’t speak. “I told you because I wanted you to understand why we can’t be together.”
“I know.” Before she can speak again, I place a finger over her mouth to stop her. “Here’s the thing. We’re having a baby together and I’m falling in love with you.”
I didn’t intend to blurt out my feelings, but she needs to know the truth.
Her mouth drops open. “Are you high?”
I chuckle. She’s the only woman I know who would ask that after a declaration of love.
“I’m being serious. Did you happen to eat any food from Petal or Feather or Lennon or Basil or …”
“I did not eat any brownies or edibles of any sort. And, before you ask, I haven’t been smoking either. I’m not high, but I am falling in love with you.”
She shakes her head with such force I’m afraid she’ll give herself a migraine. “No. No. No. No.”
I steer her to the sofa and get her settled before sitting next to her. “Ellie girl, why is it so hard for you to believe I could love you?”
“We hardly know each other.”
