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“I love cooking with you, too,” he assures me as I let go of him and take a step back. “But for now, you can relax.”
Since I know Jonathan is nearby, I lower my voice so I’m not overheard. “Have you updated him about the pregnancy thing yet?”
“I have not. I figured that was your news to share, but I can tell him if you don’t want to.”
It’s tempting to let him do it, but I’m no coward. “No, it’s okay. I’ll go do it now.” Stopping at the refrigerator for a cold beer, I take a deep breath and tell myself it won’t be weird.
It probably will, though. I’ve never had to tell a guy Iamseeing I’m not having his baby, after all, let alone one whose dad I’m dating instead.
So. Awkward.
Once I’ve taken the cap off the bottle, I paste a smile on my face and head to the living room.
Jonathan glances up when I come into view.
I drop onto the couch cushion beside him.
He looks over at me as if I must be lost, then his gaze flickers to the beer in my hand and his eyebrows rise. “Hard day?”
I thrust the bottle toward him. “I brought it for you.”
His eyes narrow with suspicion, but he takes it, anyway. “Thanks.” When I only nod wordlessly in response, he studies me more closely before concluding why I’m here. “Does someone have a guilty conscience?” he taunts.
“What?”
His guess makes my stomach twist up in knots.
He smirks, tipping back the bottle and taking a swig. “You finally let my dad pound that sweet pussy so you brought me a beer to make up for it.”
“Ew. Don’t say things like that.”
His blue eyes glitter with amusement. “I appreciate the gesture. If you really want to make it up to me, I have some much dirtier ideas.”
Huffing with annoyance, I say, “This is not an apology beer, and there will be no further ‘making it up to you.’”
“Further, she says.”
My cheeks flush and I can’t help feeling a little defensive. “I would not feel the need to apologize for sleeping with your dad.”
He laughs. “That sounds pretty fucked up when you say it that way.”
Flustered, I mutter, “Just drink your beer and be quiet.”
He grins and takes another sip. “Yes, dear.”
Why is he making this so much harder than it needs to be?
I feel sick to my stomach, and I don’t know why.
I guess I do. I don’tdislikeJonathan anymore. I may tease him and give him a hard time sometimes, but it’s all good-natured. I don’t want to bemeanto him.
But it’s not being mean. I’m sharing great news.
It onlyfeelslike being mean because the big jerk won’t stop flirting with me and playing with my emotions. I can never tell if he’s serious or not.
“I really like you,” I blurt.
His smile drops.
