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I open and close my mouth like a fish. I don’t know what to say. Love? I think back to when Eric said it first, and how shocked I was, how I let myself fall for his lies. I was so enthralled by the idea of love, that I didn’t stop to consider the reality. Would it be the same with Jonah? Would his needs come first? I don’t think so, and yet doubt worms its way into my mind. Would he make me give up my dreams? Would he make me close the paper?
I want to say it back. I want to fall for Jonah without thinking, but I can’t look before I leap, not in this.
“Jonah, I just—”
He presses a kiss to my lips. I sway into him, trying to show him with my body that I could love him, but I need time. “I don’t care if you don’t say it back. You don’t have to declare your feelings now. But give me a week, okay?” He doesn’t look angry, and thank god for that, because a lesser man would have gotten on his bike and ridden away.
“A week of what?”
He rubs a hand over my lower back, comforting me. “Showing you what it’s like to be mine.” His voice is strong, assured, and suddenly I know what it’s like to be Jonah’s sole goal. I don’t know if I can resist him.
* * *
When we get back to the house later, Christine pretends to be annoyed, but I can see she’s secretly pleased that Jonah took the bike out.
His mother rolls her eyes and mutters something about it being a death trap. When we gather around the dinner table later, it’s to eat leftovers from the baby shower and enjoy the remaining wine from the open bar.
Jonah asks me what I want before making his own plate, and I see his mom watching with approval, and with no small amount of speculation. His grandma is there too, watching me with hawk-like intelligence and sharing the occasional look with her daughter.
“So Callie, do you want kids?” his mom asks.
I cringe internally. Two hours ago, Jonah said he loved me, and now his mom wants to know if I want kids. “I do,” I say slowly. “I have a lot to achieve before then, but I want a big family.”
“That okay with you, J?” Christine teases.
I expect a cutting remark, but instead Jonah looks at me, steady and sure, and says, “Yes.” His eyes glint. In them I can see confidence, and no small amount of arrogance. I’ll win you, those eyes say. Whatever it takes.
Happiness tangles with nerves inside of me. He’s so certain, but I’m not.
“I want you at the birth,” Christine suddenly says.
Jonah looks around, like she’s speaking to someone else. “Sure, okay.” But his voice is hollow.
“You could try to sound a little excited.” Christine frowns at him, and my heart pinches.
“I am.” He lets his fork drop onto his plate. “I’m excited for you.” He pushes back from the table. “I’ll be right back.” He strides from the room and Christine jerks her head toward him. I raise my brows. I don’t think following him is the right idea, but staying here will be more than uncomfortable.
I find him on the back deck, staring out at the yard. The air has edged from crisp to cold, and I shiver as I come to stand next to him. He silently removes his jacket and drapes it over my shoulders, letting his hands linger at my neck.
“Come to convince me that babies aren’t terrifying?” He slants me a look that says he knows why I’m out here.
“Nah. I’m just outside because I didn’t want to be collateral damage. It’s safer out here.”
His eyes fly wide and he laughs, tipping his head back with joy. Warmth blooms in my chest. Is this love? That feeling of being the half of a whole? Of being the only person who can make someone laugh when things are hard?
“What’s wrong with babies anyways? Seems like you’re okay with kids.” My pulse speeds even as I ask the question. Maybe what Jonah said about kids is all for show. He doesn’t seem like a kid kind of guy.
“Aren’t they a little small?” He looks at me with shadowed eyes, and my chest aches. “I just—” he swallows and looks down at his hands. “I’ve never held a baby. And I want to, for Christine and Mia. They’ve wanted this baby for so long. He means everything to them. But I’m scared.”
Oh, Jonah. “Why are you scared?” I ask carefully. I wrap my arms around myself because I want to fling them around him, but I’m not sure he wants that.
“What if I hurt him? Or what if he doesn’t like me?” Jonah blows out a breath. “A five-year-old I can handle. I can get him gifts, show him boy stuff. It’s simple. But a baby?” He shakes his head. “They need affection. Skin-to-skin contact. I read about it.” He shoves a hand through his hair, tugging on the silky strands. My throat tightens at the thought of Jonah googling babies and freaking out that he wouldn’t be a good uncle. I want to cry for him.
“Christine wants me to be there for him. I have everything ready for his college fund. I even know what type of bike I’d buy him. But she wants more. I don’t know if I can do more.” He looks at me with helpless eyes, and I can’t help but step into him and press my face to his chest. I loop my arms around his waist and squeeze.
“You’re going to be fine. Parents aren’t born knowing how to parent, you know. Uncles aren’t born knowing how to uncle. You’ll figure it out as you go. And I’ll be there.”
I lean back so I can look at his face. “I’ll be there,” I repeat. “You won’t be alone.”
