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About five minutes later, I left my father downstairs to watch his nightly game show. As I entered my room, butterflies swarmed in my belly, a mix of nervousness about tonight’s mood and the usual anticipation of hearing Sig’s voice.
Ten minutes passed, though, and the phone didn’t ring.
Then another ten minutes went by.
I had too much pride to pick up the phone and call him myself after last night. Though maybe I was overthinking things. It was always possible he’d gotten tied up with something. Although, it was nearly ten at night there and too late for him to still be working. A jolt of jealousy hit at the thought of him out and about at a pub, flirting with some woman he might take home only to kick out. Or maybe he wouldn’t send her home this time. Had I driven him to that by being so forthcoming last night? He did have a tendency to seek out random women when he was trying to forget his problems.
That question continued to plague me for a full half hour. Once I determined Sig wasn’t going to call, I forced myself to go back downstairs.
My father’s expression darkened when he saw my face. “What’s the matter?”
“He didn’t call tonight. I’m not sure what happened.”
“That’s not good.” His brows furrowed. “Why don’t you give that pricka call?”
“I could, but…it’s a long story. I feel like the ball is in his court right now.”
Dad’s eyes followed me as I went to the fridge and poured some orange juice. I hated having to drag him into my problems. He couldn’t afford to be stressed out on my behalf. I was slowly sipping my juice and looking at a postcard Dad’s sister, my aunt Maureen, had sent from France, when the doorbell rang.
My father went to open it, and I heard that undeniable British accent.
“The rumor is someone here wants to try British pancakes?”
My heart skipped a beat as I put my orange juice down.
“You’re damn right we do.” Dad stepped aside.
And there he was: Sig, holding a paper bag of groceries.
Our eyes locked as I stood, too stunned to speak. I placed my hand over my heart. “How…did this happen?”
He took a few steps inside. “I booked a ticket and got on a plane.”
“But you didn’t tell me you were coming.”
“I know. I wanted to surprise you. I hope it’s a good surprise and not a bad one.” His eyes fell to my round belly. He mouthed, “Wow.”
“I’ll give you two a minute…” Dad turned and headed upstairs.
After my father’s bedroom door closed, Sig set down the bag he was holding and reached for me.
I could feel his heart beating as he wrapped his arms around my body, his amazing scent as intoxicating as ever. It felt so damn good to be held by him. Despite my pronouncement about protecting my heart, my reaction right now was proof of my weakness—proof that I was nowhere near ready to rip the Band-Aid off.
“I couldn’t leave things the way they were last night,” he whispered as he caressed my hair. “I needed to see you. I hope this is okay.” He looked down at me. “I know we can figure this out.”
“I’m sorry if I—”
He pressed his lips against mine, stopping me mid-sentence and devouring the remainder of what I’d planned to say.
“God, I missed you,” he mumbled over my lips.
My body felt ready to melt. “I missed you, too.”
He pulled back. “We’ll talk later, alright? I promise. After your father goes to bed. Right now, I’d like to make you both breakfast for dinner—the pancakes you were craving. Unless you’ve already eaten.”
My heart felt ready to leap out of my chest. “We haven’t. And that sounds amazing.”
He kissed my forehead and lifted the bag to the counter.
