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I brush my lips over hers. “You know we do. I told you I’d take care of you. I meant that in every way.” I drop my hand down from her stomach, so it grazes between her legs. “But first, you need to have some soup. I’ll make toast to go with it.”
She groans. “Miles. I need—”
“Youneedto eat before you feel sicker. So, I’m going to warm up soup for us and make some toast, and if you eat all your food like a good girl, I’ll give you everything else you need. Got it?”
She stares me down for a second, but then relief washes over her face. “Yes. Thank you.”
I stand up, not taking my eyes off her, then lean down and kiss her cheek. “Stop thanking me. I’ve got you, okay?”
She bobs her head up and down. “Okay. I am hungry.”
“Good. I’ll be back in a minute.”
As I turn and walk toward the kitchen, my chest tightens again, my heart slamming against my ribs. I meant everything I said to her tonight, but that doesn’t change the fact that everything is about to change in ways I can’t control. I’m fucking terrified, and I have no idea how to deal with it, other than to focus all my energy on taking care of her.And our baby.
I’m a mess.
I held everything together last night. It was easier when I had Amelia to take care of. I focused on feeding her—and pleasing her—until we fell asleep, tangled up with my hand protectively wrapped around her stomach. Our baby. We’re going to have a baby.
My blood runs cold again. I meant every word I said to Amelia last night. I’m happy. I want this, but I am unraveling. My mind is spinning with everything I have to do. Everything I want to do. Everything I can’t control. And that there are a million more things I haven’t thought of yet.
Amelia went into work this morning to catch up on what she missed yesterday, and now that I don’t have her to focus on, my anxiety is spiking. I feel like a zombie as I walk toward the bakery. Amelia’s apartment is only a couple of blocks away, so I walked rather than take her car. Her car is going to the shop to get checked out later today, so I sent her in my car—which just had an inspection done last week. She was vaguely annoyed, but I appreciate her letting me do this. There’s too much I can’t protect her from, but I’m going to keep her safe in every way I possibly can.
“Hey, Linda,” I say, putting on a calm, relaxed face as I walk into the bakery.
Mackie’s mom looks over at me and smiles. “Morning, honey.”
“Morning. Mackie home?”
“Yep, she’s upstairs.”
I could’ve texted Mackie and asked her if she was home, but the truth is, I’m avoiding my phone. I have been since last night. I glanced at it this morning and saw a ridiculous amount in our group chat—something about Pete giving the farmhouse to Rae and Sarah. And then there were more in my group chat with the guys—asking how things went with Amelia and reminding me about the suit fitting and then the catering and cake testing later today. I ignored them all, though the thought that I have to see everyone later is rattling in my mind and making me more stressed.
“Perfect, thanks,” I say to Linda, swallowing against the lump in the back of my throat. “Could you grab a couple of bagels for us?”
“Sure thing.” I watch as she grabs a spinach bagel for Mackenzie and a sun-dried tomato and parmesan one for me. Our favorites. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.”
I take the bag, then throw my hand up in a wave as I head upstairs. Mackie’s family owns this building and the attached one next door. The upper three floors of this building are where her family lives and the building next door has apartments they rent out—one of which Rae and Aaron live in. Once upstairs, I head to the semi-private studio apartment Mackie lives in. It has a separate entrance from the three-level apartment her parents and two of her step siblings live in, but also has an entrance into their apartment. It gives her privacy and space—two things Mackie needs—while still being close to her family. Her little studio only has a small bathroom and a mini kitchenette—basically a counter with a few cabinets, a sink, a coffeemaker, a toaster oven, a plug-in electric cooktop, and an apartment-sized refrigerator.
I give a quick knock on Mackie’s door, then walk in before she answers.
“Hey,” she says, smiling over at me. “Perfect timing. I was just making coffee.”
“Great. I brought bagels.” The flatness of my voice instantly draws her attention. She presses a button on the coffeemaker, then crosses the room, looking up at me with her deep brown eyes. Though she’s five-foot-eight, I’m a full seven inches taller than her. The curse of being six-foot-three. I’m always looking down to see everyone in my life. I’m damn near a foot taller than Sarah. Amelia is probably only five-five or five-six.
“Miles, what’s wrong?”
My chest grows heavy and tears fill my eyes. I’m about to fall the fuck apart.No better place to do it.
“Amelia’s pregnant.”
Her eyes go wide, but she doesn’t miss a beat. She grabs my hand and pulls me to her couch. She sits down in the corner and puts a pillow in her lap, then pats it. Without a second thought, I curl up on the couch and rest my head on the pillow.
Mackie has been my best friend pretty much since we met. Sure, I bonded with the boys first over our shared love of baseball, but after that, Mackenzie and I quickly realized we were platonic soulmates. We wouldn’t have phrased it that way as kids, but we got each other. Though at the time I was an only child and she was from a big family, we both craved the same things. Peace and comfort, but also fun. Our friend group can be intense and Mackie and I always provided each other with solace and sanctuary.
When my anxiety got bad as a kid, Mackie was the only one I admitted it to. She didn’t understand how to help me then, but over the years, she learned. She helps me control and hide it.
