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Now he’s expecting that I won’t even bother to call him until after I meet with Dr. Segal, which is still five days away. He didn’t seem put out by that either, which means I can’t break down and call him any earlier. And truly… there’s no other reason to call him since we just agreed to be fuck buddies again, and we can’t actually fuck until I’m cleared by the doctor.
“Certifiable idiot, Kiera,” I mutter as I sag onto the couch. I flop back, head resting on the cushion, and stare at the ceiling.
I replay every moment of our barely ten minutes together, analyzing every word and his tone of voice and the menagerie of expressions on his beautiful face, desperately seeking some clue that perhaps I missed.
A signal he was sending that might be contrary to the actual words he was giving me.
My breath freezes as I remember him walking out the door. He kissed me on the top of the head just before he stepped out onto the porch and there was a fraction of a second where I caught his expression and it looked… pained.
Like he didn’t want to leave?
Like he wasn’t happy with what we had so quickly and without much effort decided on?
Is there a chance Bain is feeling like I am? That we just made a colossal mistake.
Bolting off the couch, I pace the living room. I hem and haw, trying to rationalize what we said to each other versus what I might have seen on his face. I attempt to decode a mystery that might not even be a mystery. If I could get just an inkling… something more concrete, then I could go to him and let him know how I feel. That I want more from him than being his fuck buddy.
I just need…
“Fuck,” I groan, slapping my palm to my head. “Idiot.”
I’m worried about all these what-ifs when I should stop leaving shit up to chance. I simply need to tell Bain how I feel. I need to let him know that I want to be so much more than casual with him. I need to be truthful so I don’t leave anything on the table.
♦
It’s nearly threep.m. when I pull into the parking garage for Bain’s condo on Oliver Avenue. I have the parking pass and key card to the private resident elevator Bain gave me the night we went on the double date with Camden and Danica. It was our first real date and with our commitment to raise the baby together decided, he wanted me to be able to come and go from his place as desired. This was before we agreed to move in together and put Drake’s house on the market, but I’m glad I held on to these things. It means I can walk right up to his door, bang on it and demand he talk to me.
I know that sounds dramatic, but it’s really not. I’m on a mission.
After parking, I sling my purse over my shoulder and open the trunk. From within, I pull out the two large suitcases plus a duffel. They’re stuffed full of my clothes, toiletries and shoes. I couldn’t fit everything in here, but it’s enough to get me firmly settled in Bain’s home.
I should do two trips with the stuff, but I want to make a big statement when he opens the door. That I’ve got my entire life right here and I’m not leaving.
It’s nearly impossible to roll the big suitcases together while carrying the duffel and my purse, but I manage to hook them over the telescoped arms and pull the wheeled bags behind me in each hand. Still it is slow-going, every little dip or crack in the concrete threatening to flip one out of my hand. I’m huffing and puffing by the time I enter the elevator.
I nudge the twelfth-floor button with my elbow and lean back against the wall. I’m sweating and I blow out a long breath. This is either really smart or really stupid.
The elevator stops on Bain’s floor and the doors slide open. His unit is down the hall about thirty feet. I try to maneuver the suitcases out, but the largest case with my duffel starts to tip over. I have to release my hold on the other case to catch it.
“Shit,” I mutter as the doors begin to close and I pop my butt back to stop them. They bounce off my hips and reopen, but I lose my hold on the cases, which fall over onto their sides. The largest one springs apart and my underwear and bras spill out, followed by a certain sex toy Bain likes using on me.
“Goddamn it,” I mutter. I glance over my shoulder and note that his door isn’t that far. Making a command decision, I pull the other case out that’s still closed and shove it into the hall. I next grab the duffel and toss it. Pulling the last case forward by its telescope handle just far enough that the doors can’t close all the way, I bolt into action.
I grab the two bags in the hall, sparing a glance as the elevator doors start to shut but catch the handle of the other bag. They slide back open as planned.
“Sweet.”
I run as fast as I can, dragging the two items of luggage behind me. They bump and jostle, the larger one catching me on my heel and pulling off my tennis shoe.
“Fuck,” I snarl as I reach Bain’s unit, glancing back at the elevator. The doors are now repetitively trying to close on the long handle and with each bang, it’s pushing it back into the car. If it goes fully in, my case and underwear are going somewhere without me.
I drop the luggage at Bain’s door and then immediately trip over it in my haste to get back to the elevator. The larger case tips over onto his door and scrapes down the beautiful dark wood, gouging it.
I curse and then the elevator alarm goes off. I see the suitcase handle is mere inches from being pushed back in. I bolt that way, hobbling with one shoe on and one shoe off. I reach the elevator just as it’s getting ready to close and fling my arm and leg inside the gap. The doors knock into me good but then spring all the way open.
I sag in relief, sliding onto the floor near my suitcase as I try to catch my breath.
“Kiera?”
