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A twitch goes through me.
And there it is, Wynona, what you knew he’d say, what you practically goaded him into saying, what he most definitely did say.
“Wyn?” he asks, taking my hand.
“Sorry, just lost in thought,” I say, flashing a smile.
“I asked, what about you?”
“Same here,” I sing-song. “Last thing I need right now is a child.”
The last thing I need, and the first thing I have... the last thing I need, and the last thing I want, and exactly what I have... a kid... a kid... a goddamn kid.
“Wynona?” Emerson’s holding both of my hands now, peering into my face with concern. “You okay? You look kind of peaked.”
I rise. “I’m fine. I’ll just go splash some cold water on my face.”
I almost say that I’ve been getting hot flashes, but that’s stupid and ridiculous because it’s not like I’m menopausal. Just freaking the fuck out.
In the bathroom, the soap smells like grapefruit if you pared down the sweetest parts of five different ones. The mirror is ringed by, you guessed it, more masks, with increasingly mocking expressions. But the only face I have eyes for is the one in the mirror.
“You can do this,” I tell her. “Let’s do this.”
So, I go out and do it.
I eat the rest of my meal—some weird-named fish with weirder-named spices on it with some fiddleheads and homemade bread. I chat with Emerson some more as if nothing in the world is wrong, no, nothing. And then we go back to the hotel, and I pretend to be tired, and we sleep, but not in each other’s arms because I pretend to be asleep when really, I’m afraid.
Afraid of what I’m carrying. Afraid of what it’ll mean, what it’ll force us to do. Afraid of getting too close to this man, who hurt me before, and being forced to tell him what will force him to hurt me again.
When he thinks I’m asleep, I can feel Emerson run his hand down my body softly. Into my neck, he whispers, “Tomorrow. You’re going to love it. You’ll see.”
Chapter 18
Emerson
Before she wakes up, I check my bank account online.
The numbers don’t lie. It doesn’t look good.
Staying at this hotel longer was already a splurge, and these past few nights, the boat... it’s hit my account hard.
Hard enough that if I keep this up, I’ll have to dip into my savings.
Shit.
“What you looking at?” Wynona says sleepily from the bed.
“Damn it, caught in the act,” I joke, going over to snuggle in next to her.
“Emerson?” she says after a minute or so of cuddling.
Yep. Not going to get out of it that easily.
“My bank account,” I admit. “Not a big deal.”
“Then why do you look all tense?” she asks, snuggling into my arms and gazing up at my face.
“I’ll just have to pick up a few more concerts to play at when I get back,” I say. “It’ll be fine.”
She bites her lip, looking down. “And you’re sure that you shouldn’t have taken...”
“That again?” I growl, sitting up straight and letting her go. “I thought we were past that.”
Her glare is fierce. “I just don’t want you to be hard up and make some decision you’ll regret later.”
“Hey.” I take her hand in mine. It’s funny, I keep forgetting how small it is. “I chose you. I’m not going to regret that.”
She just keeps looking down, nods a little. I tip her chin up so she’s facing me. “Understand?”
Suddenly, she grins, stealing a kiss. “Understood.”
We have a nice, still-sleepy quickie in bed.
“What were you saying last night?” she asks afterward as we get dressed.
I frown humorously at her. “When you were supposed to be asleep, you mean?”
That grin of hers... two parts naughty, one part repentant. “Okay, got me.”
“I’ll tell you over breakfast,” I say, taking her hand.
I end up telling her on the way back. “I rented us an island for tonight.”
She drops my hand, glaring even more fiercely at me. “Emerson!”
“Sorry?”
Her glare doesn’t budge. “One minute you’re admitting that money is an issue, and the next you’re splurging on something like that?”
I take her hand firmly. “I paid for it before I checked my accounts this morning. And there’s no refund. So, you can refuse to come, but it’ll just be wasting money that’s already been paid.”
She glares at me for a bit longer before finally sighing. “All right. If you say so.”
“I’m a grown man, Wynona,” I growl. “It’s time you started treating me like it.”
Mouth open, face apparently about to deliver another scolding, she pauses, then nods. “You’re right. I just... worry about you.”
“Leave that to me,” I say more gently. “Okay?”
“Okay,” she agrees. “When do we set out for this island?”
“As soon as you can get packed up,” I tell her.
Half an hour later, we’re meeting at the back entrance of the hotel, the one that leads to the beach.
