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I roll my eyes. “You’re unbelievable. Whenever I find myself starting to like being with you, somehow you manage to mess it up.”
He laughs, his foot brushing my calf under the table. I shiver, trying not to smile. “You look nice today. You know that? Prettiest girl I’ve seen all afternoon. Hell, prettiest girl I’ve seen in a lifetime.”
“Now you’re being absurd. But go ahead, keep telling me how beautiful I am.”
“You have poise. Even when you’re pissed. Also, fuck-me eyes.”
“I donothave fuck-me eyes,” I say, hand coming to my mouth. “What does that even mean?”
“It’s this sultry, lurid stare, like you need me inside of you.”
“I have never looked at someone like that in my life. I’m pretty sure I have the opposite. I have fuck-you eyes.”
He reaches out and touches my hand. For a second, I want to brush him off, but instead our fingers intertwine. I’m smiling, and he’s smiling, and I feel good. It’s normal, weirdly normal, like we’re actually together—actually married—and if I closed my eyes, I might even admit that I liked it.
“This is what I want,” he says, tightening his grip on my hand. “This, right here.”
“I do too,” I whisper, even though I know I shouldn’t say it. I’m only giving him hope.
“Something normal and good. Something I can look forward to, right?”
“Yeah.” I blink a few times. “But no.”
“Keely—”
“I mean, I like this.” I keep holding his hand, not wanting to get go. “I really like it. And maybe if things were different, maybe I might say that I’m feeling the same way you are.”
His eyes narrow, intensifying. “Are you telling me what I think you are?”
“I’m telling you that it can’t work. It won’t work, you know that. There are too many reasons why it won’t work.”
“Reasons are easy to fix.”
“Come on. That’s just a line.”
“It’s true. Whatever’s holding you back, tell me. I’ll make it go away. I’m very persuasive, as you know.”
Slowly, I slip my hand away. “You can’t fix some things.”
Because the thing holding me back is the baby.
Even if I feel good with Nolan, even if I like the way our relationship’s developing, I can’t let myself get too attached, because the idea of turning my child into a Crowley boy is terrifying.
Look at the brothers, look at how they’ve lived—like all the privilege is wrapped in a bloody cloth—my baby won’t be like them, not if I have a choice.
Everything I’m doing, it’s for my child. The money the risk.
And walking away from him.
I know it’s wrong, it’s selfish. This is Nolan’s child too. Except I don’t want my baby to end up like him. As horrible as that may be.
“I’ve got one more surprise for you.” He gets up suddenly. “Before you make up your mind.”
“Nolan—”
“Just come on.” He checks his watch. “It’s a half-hour drive. You up for it?”
“Where are we going?”
