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Now all I could think about was Luna chasing some faceless toddler around, her warm smile and happy laughter resonating in my memory. Damn it, but I missed her. I wished we had ended differently, and could be friends through this. Or at the very least, be civil to each other.
Chapter 22 - Luna
More than two weeks had gone by since my ill-fated trip to New York, and several days since I had sent Jax’s obnoxious, insulting paperwork back to him. Every time I thought about it, I wanted to spit. Worse, when he called, my heart actually skipped a beat, thinking he’d had a change of heart. Nope, he only wanted to tell me I was stubborn for not falling to his feet in gratitude for his “generous” offer to do what was right by his child. It would be a very cold day in hell before I ever took a cent from him.
I pulled out of Dr. Keller’s parking lot to head home, glad I didn’t have a shift that night at the ER. I did some slow breathing exercises as I eased through the streets of the town, smiling automatically whenever I saw someone I knew out jogging or crossing the street at the lights. I had to stay calm for the baby’s health. Jax was out of my life, and I needed to stop letting him rile me up.
My mood wasn’t much better by the time I got home, but I was looking forward to the chocolate chip cookies one of our patients had brought us. Dr. Keller’s wife had him on a strict heart-health diet so Helen and I divvied up the chewy, buttery delights between us. Since I was eating for two, I wasn’t going to go easy on them.
A big SUV I didn’t recognize partially blocked my driveway, and I did a few more breathing exercises. Probably a delivery person, no big deal. They couldn’t know I had cookies calling my name. After a few minutes of not so patiently waiting for them to leave, I finally parked on the street and huffed my way up the driveway. My pregnancy mood swings were no joke, especially when I was hungry.
When I saw Jax sitting on the bench on my porch, hidden behind the hedge I still hadn’t gotten around to trimming, my already low mood plummeted, and my ravenous hunger disappeared in a swirl of nerves. My heart started pounding, and my hands almost reached for him, all on their own. He looked more handsome than I remembered, with his blonde hair needing a trim and adorably tousled as if he’d been running his fingers through it. He wore a dark gray suit, but his jacket was off and neatly folded beside him, and his green and navy tie hung loose around his neck. Yes, my first instinct was to hug him, but my second was to chuck the box of cookies I had at him. It was only the fact I’d been waiting to devour them for three hours that saved him.
I was speechless, and stood there gaping at him as he slowly stood. Thankfully, he looked as nervous as I felt, which was a point in his favor.
“We need to talk,” he said.
A little more groveling, or any groveling at all would have gone a long way. His imperious tone set me over my limit, and I whipped out my house key. I stormed past him, or at least tried. He jumped in front of the door.
“Please, Luna. Let me take you to dinner. I handled things badly out of shock and fear, but now I’m ready to be more reasonable.”
Hearing him say my name made my heart clench, but I refused to let my hopes rise. He’d already dashed enough of my hopes for a lifetime. I stared at him until he moved out of the way of the door.
“Fine, but I’m too tired to go anywhere. Come inside if you want.”
It would be better for the baby if we got along, so I put aside my pride and left the door open after I went in the house. “I’m making macaroni and cheese,” I said, not bothering to tell him that was all I could keep down other than the copious amounts of sweets I’d been gorging on. The obstetrician assured me I’d feel better any day, and then I could start eating more healthfully.
I watched him as I pulled out a pot and filled it with water, second guessing serving him boxed mac and cheese. No, this was my life, not his, and there was nothing wrong with it. He looked around my living room, which was attached to the kitchen by a counter. A short hallway led to the tiny half bath at the end, with the master bedroom and my office, soon to be the nursery, on either side. I had random art that I picked up at craft shows and thrift stores, interspersed with pictures of my family and friends. I loved my little house, and couldn’t help but wonder if he approved. I didn’t care at all, but I did wonder.
“This is a nice place,” he said, seeming to mean it. I forced myself not to smile. “Will it be big enough after the baby’s born?”
Well, I was glad I didn’t smile. It was just like him to not want anything to do with us then come here and feign concern about the size of my house. I ignored him and added the noodles to the boiling water. I reached for the remote and tossed it to him.
“Make yourself at home,” I said, heading to my room to change out of my scrubs.
It was torture not putting on something cute, but I didn’t want to head back out in my grubby sweats, either. I compromised on my comfortable jeans and a t-shirt. Not sloppy, but certainly not trying to impress him. By the time I got back into the kitchen, the timer dinged and I rinsed the noodles and squeezed the cheese sauce onto them, my stomach rumbling. He got up off the couch and came over to the bar, looking lost and expectant. I made myself a serving and handed him a bowl, putting the pot on a dish towel on the counter.
“Help yourself.” I breezed past him and plopped onto the couch.
“This looks delicious,” he said.
I snickered at his blatant lie and groaned as my spine decompressed into the couch cushions. I rolled my aching neck and shoulders, trying to work out the kinks of a full day of giving shots, taking temperatures, and soothing sick kids. Strong hands gripped my shoulders and began kneading.
It felt so heavenly I didn’t jerk away or tell him to stop, but I tensed up. I needed to jerk away or tell him to stop or my heart would get the wrong idea.
“Just relax,” he said, half bossy, half pleading. “It’s the least I can do for the mother of my child.”
I sniffed but melted into his expert massage. He not only got all the kinks, but sent delicious shivers all down my limbs as the warmth of his hands made its way through my t-shirt. The second my traitorous mind began imagining those hands on my skin, I pulled away.
“Thanks,” I said, pulling my bowl from the coffee table and digging in.
I grimaced, because while I loved the stuff, it really needed to be eaten piping hot. I snuck a peek at him out of the corner of my eye as he took a bite. We sat in increasingly awkward silence as we ate the congealing mac and cheese.
I finally put my fork down and turned to him. “You really hurt me—”
“I’m sorry I acted like a scared high school kid,” he blurted at the same time.
Our eyes locked, and I found myself getting lost in those green depths again. No matter how hard I tried to get over him, forget him, and banish him from my thoughts, all it took was for him to blink slowly at me and I was gone.
