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“Aren’t I, though?” I hate the way my voice wobbles.
“What does that mean?”
“It means you tried to date her not so long ago.” I blow out a harsh breath. “Man, I thought this wasn’t an issue for me, and it’s not. But you could be doing this with someone more experienced in this department if things had gone differently.”
Nathan stuffs his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and leans back against the wall behind him.
“No, I wouldn’t, for a myriad of reasons. Would you like me to list them?” His cocky confidence softens some of the ache from admitting my insecurity.
“Yes, please.”
He flips out his index finger. “First of all, I pursued her out of comfort more than anything else. I had Janessa, and when she died, there was Cami and you. And you …” He chuckles. “You’re wild, babe. And I didn’t think I could handle your brand of wild after the past couple of years of my life tore me apart. I was looking for safe.”
“So why not stick with safe?” I ask, not feeling better at his explanation.
“Because it took getting drunk and nearly punched in the face to wake me up. You may have been too drunk to remember that night, but I spent it watching you suck face with my best friend. Too much gin nearly cost me all of the people I care about because I was fucking lonely and too scared to admit it. Pathetic.” He clenches his jaw and looks away from me.
“Nathan, honey, it’s understandable that after all you went through, you’d gravitate toward someone comfortable and easy.”
He startles me by crossing the room and climbing onto the bed with me.
“This wasn’t supposed to be in the cards for me.” He leans down and spans a protective hand over my belly. “Yet here he is. Janessa’s death was horrible, but she taught me how to love. Losing her so young showed me that life doesn’t just stop because she’s no longer here. And this … this baby, and equally as importantly, you, show me that I deserve to have wild and crazy rather than simply comfortable.”
“Nathan.” I choke on his name, and tears burn the corners of my eyes.
“If you’re worried, please stop right now. I never felt an ounce for Cami what I feel for you. And there’s nobody else on the planet I’d rather create a life with than you. Experience be damned.”
“Does it worry you that we don’t know what we’re doing?”
Nathan lurches forward and plants a chaste kiss on my forehead, then tucks himself tightly to my side in the narrow hospital bed.
“Every damn second of the day.”
22
Kiersten
Bed rest sucks. There isn’t a clearer way to put it. I think after ten days, my body’s started to merge with the guest bed at Nathan’s.
I’ve refused to utter his victory in the entire time I’ve stayed at his house, but we both know I lost the argument.
Until now. He went to work this morning, and I’ve decided I had enough.
Me staying here placated him, but there’s nothing I’ve done at his house that I couldn’t be doing in my own. He goes to work, and I sit on the daybed in his sparsely decorated guest room, flipping through various streaming services and binge-watching whatever terrible reality TV show catches my eye first.
The good part—besides seeing his handsome face, I can begrudgingly admit—is the subscription meal plan that delivers fresh, chef-cooked meals to his doorstep once a week. That means all I’ve had to do for sustenance is pull the film off and nuke them in the microwave for two minutes. Voila! Lunch.
He’ll figure out pretty quickly that when I snuck back to my house this morning, I took the rest of this week’s meals with me. I can argue they’re for our baby more than they’re for me.
Sneaking into a cab today filled me with more shame than leaving that same house the morning of our one-night stand. At least then I had the lovely sex afterglow to bask in. Today, I just feel like a criminal.
Like a good little pregnant woman, I put away my fresh meals and make myself at home on my couch with the TV on.
See? Exactly like at Nathan’s.
My phone rings halfway through some engrossing matchmaker show, though I’d never admit that out loud.
“Hey, Mimi,” I answer, muting the television before she hears talk of sex and alcohol and starts lecturing me on watching “the devil’s home movies.”
