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“Poor kid,” I agreed, drawing out the words and letting my hands fall to my sides.
“Chinese food?” he offered, knitting his fingers in mine as he led me out of the store.
“Yes,” I breathed, even though that was all we’d been eating lately. The Chinese restaurant two blocks away knew Pete’s phone number and our order by heart. It was all I could eat without throwing up. Why? I had no idea.
“I wouldn’t be totally surprised if we brought home a carton of crab rangoons swaddled in a blanket instead of a baby,” he mused as I stuffed my face like I hadn’t eaten in weeks.
“Or dumplings.”
“Or lo-mein.”
I smiled at him. “Thank you,” I said, leaning back and grabbing my lemonade.
“For what?”
“Doing this for me.” I blushed, and he smiled softly.
“I just thought you could use a day out of Hot Springs.”
I turned my head, noticing the large bookstore on the other side of the food court. It was the kind of place that had every book imaginable. My father owned a few of them, the same branch and name as the one I was staring at. He’d created a monopoly of sorts, and now was richer than anyone I’d ever met.
New money rich, which meant nothing in my old life.
“Do you want to go check it out?”
“I don’t know,” I said quietly. I hadn’t told Pete anything about how my parents got their wealth. I didn’t feel like it really mattered. But for whatever reason I said, “One summer, when I was teenager, I convinced my dad to let me go to the city with him. I stayed for a few weeks and went to work at his offices. Someone in the editing department took me under their wing and let me help out.”
“As an editor?”
“Yeah. My dad owns a publishing house, among other things. I loved it. I wanted to go to school for creative writing but my parents… it was out of the question.”
“Is that what you want to do?”
“Edit? No.” I laughed. “Write, I think. I’d love to write a book. Something silly like romance, or fantasy. An escape from… reality. That’s what I love about books.”
“We should go look. You were talking about wanting to order some new books for the bookstore anyway. You can pick out some titles and I’ll order them wholesale.”
“We don’t have to…” I pressed.
“I want to.”
He gathered up our trash and tossed it in a garbage can, then extended a hand to me. “I like that you like to read. I like sitting on the couch with you at night while you flip through a book and gasp and carry on when something big happens. I won’t pretend like I know what you’re going on about when you try to tell me what’s happening, but… I love how happy it makes you.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that. My heart was bursting at the seams as I took his hand and let him walk me over to the bookstore. An hour later my arms were full of new books to add to my personal collection, and a few to give to Keely and Moira that I thought they’d like.
Pete even bought a few—more manly than the fantasy romance books I liked. I was sure I’d hear all about the autobiography written by a man who’d survived storming Normandy on D-Day whenever he finished it, but I was honestly looking forward to it.
“You have a doctor’s appointment coming up in a few days, right?” he asked as we drove back to Hot Springs.
“Yeah… on Friday, I think.”
“Do you want me to be there?”
“Only if you want,” I replied, toying with the plastic bag holding my new books. “It’ll just be more of the same. Me being poked and prodded. I don’t know if we’ll see the baby again for a while.”
“I’ll go,” he assured me, resting his hand on my thigh.
When it got home, it was late in the day. Pete went downstairs to the bar to check in and texted me after roughly twenty minutes saying he had to deal with an issue with the wholesaler and would bring dinner back later.
