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The door was suddenly yanked out from under my fist. Standing in the doorway, a shocked Cici stared up, mouth ajar, at me. “Brady! My God, what are you doing here?” She was wearing a pair of flannel pajama pants and a strappy red tank top. Her hair was hanging loose, damp against her collarbones. She was beautiful.
But her eyes were red-rimmed. And avoiding me. Her arms crossed over her chest, and I couldn’t stop my eyes from trailing over her body, skipping past her breasts to pause briefly at the flat, slender belly under her red tank.
Heat, and something dark and possessive, crept over me. Startling with its intensity. “I wanted to come.”
“And I told you to stay away.” She sounded almost desperate. “Not forever, I just—”
“I know. And I gave you some space. But now I’m here. Because I believe that you might need more than space. I think you need someone to be here while you rage, or cry, or celebrate. And I’m going to be that person, whether you like it or not.”
Cici’s face, bare of makeup and completely vulnerable, tensed. “Brady, I need you to know. This isn’t what I planned. This is all due to some stupid IUD thing. I already called my OB-GYN to figure out how this even happened.”
“I never thought that of you. Never.”
Cici’s lip quivered at my words. My already bruised heart ached just seeing it.
“Cecelia, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”
With a ragged sound, something a small animal might make, Cici lurched towards me. And I swept her up, holding her fast against me as I swayed in the door. “Easy, easy,” I said over and over.
I’m not sure how much time passed as I held her there. It could’ve been a minute, or perhaps an eternity, but eventually, Cici’s tears slowed and she pushed lightly on my shoulders. I set her down, hating every inch that slowly separated us from each other.
On her own feet, bright-blue eyes shining with tears, Cici sniffled. “Will you come in?”
“Absolutely.” Taking a deep breath, I followed Cici into her home.
***
Cici
He was here. He was here looking perfectly put together, with those devastatingly beautiful chocolate eyes and a jaw that could cut glass. His suit could’ve been painted on, for all that it fit him like a second skin. Meanwhile, I was in my favorite discount pajamas and a tank top I bought in high school. I’d spent most of the morning alternating between staring online at baby clothes and crying about the impossibility of how I could fit a pack ’n play into my office at work.
Needless to say, I was a mess.
Brady hadn’t flinched. He’d just held me there in the doorway, letting me bawl my eyes out into his custom-tailored suit jacket.
“It’s not much,” I said, ushering him in. He’d seen it from the door before, but suddenly our date seemed miles away, instead of less than a day.
His gaze did a quick sweep of my living room, but immediately fell back on me, warm and comforting. “It’s lovely, Cecelia. It feels like you.”
My toes curled in the carpet. “Thank you. Do you want anything to drink? Or to eat? I can whip something up.”
“Have you eaten?”
I flinched a little, looking at him guiltily. “A granola bar. Nothing sounds very good.”
“It’s almost lunch.” Brady slid his jacket off, tossing it casually over one of my chairs. “Let me help you.”
My eyes must’ve been huge, because Brady laughed. “I’m thirty-four and have been feeding myself for roughly thirty years of that time. Don’t look so surprised.”
I chuckled, the sound surprising me after my marathon of stress and crying. I cleared my throat, leading him into my kitchen. “Are you okay with grilled cheese? It’s my favorite.”
“I'd be thrilled with a grilled cheese.” He was rolling his sleeves up his arms, making my gaze linger there, on the smooth, muscular forearms he was slowly revealing. “What can I do to help?”
Stop being so ridiculously hot?I sighed.Or maybe don’t? It’s not like I can get more pregnant.
“Just start buttering.” I lay the bread slice in front of him. “Any preference on cheese?”
“As much as possible. I like it messy,” Brady replied, gripping the butter knife I handed him. With clean, relaxed strokes, he began to cover the bread with butter.
