My house was far from perfect. In all likelihood, it still fell short of what Trina thought would be acceptable. But it was cleaner, brighter, and safer. It was time to reach out to Trina to discuss our future.
The next day was Sunday, which I knew was her nap day, and I didn’t want to interrupt that. Instead, I decided to check in with her in the evening after she had her siesta. I made a casserole and when I was certain she’d be up, and hopefully hungry, I went to her apartment.
Feeling nervous like a teenage boy asking out his first date, I knocked on the door.
“Ryder? What are you doing here?”
In the few days since I’d seen her, I’d forgotten how red her hair was and how pretty her eyes were. My heart twisted into knots with longing for her.
I held up the bag with the casserole. “Homemade takeout. I wanted to check on you and the baby.”
She gave me a smile and opened the door. That was a good sign. As I stepped inside her place, I realized, I’d never been here before. It was just like I’d have expected. Crisp and white, uncluttered. Everything had a place.
“The kitchen is in here.”
I followed her in. “It could use some rewarming. Are you hungry?”
“Actually, I am. What temp?”
I told her the temperature and then put the casserole in the oven. When I shut the door, I looked over at her.
“Do you need something to drink? I don’t have anything but water and juice,” she asked.
“I’m fine,” I said leaning back against the counter. “You look tired, are you okay?”
She nodded. “Yes. Tired but fine. The doctor said everything looked okay.”
“You went to the doctor and didn’t let me know?” I tried not to sound annoyed, but I wasn’t going to let her push me out. At least not out from our child’s life.
“It was just to confirm the pregnancy. I peed in a cup and that was about it.”
“I’d like to know about future doctor appointments,” I said. I could let her grumpiness roll off on most occasions but when it came to this, I’d fight for my rights.
“Yes, of course.” She stood on the other side of the small but cozy kitchen looking at me like she was uncomfortable.
Just a week ago, we were living and sleeping together, and now she felt a million miles away. I desperately wanted to hold her. To inhale her sweet, spicy scent. To taste those sassy lips.
“Is this weird?” she asked.
“Is what weird?” I shoved my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for her.
“This. Now?”
“No. Not to me. Is it to you?”
“A little. I mean, it seems like last month didn’t happen. Like it was a dream.”
A good dream, I hoped. “It did happen,” I said. “Right now, I really want to have it happen again. I’m dying to kiss you.”
She let out a small gasp.
“I’m not sure I should. I keep wondering if you’re still mad at me about the business card, or maybe about the Stark thing.”
She gave me a small smile. “I’m not mad about the card. If you want to see her, I know she’s interested.”
I pushed my annoyance away. “I don’t want to see her. I never did. I still don’t. I never will.” I held her gaze hoping she’d see the truth of my statement in my eyes. “What about the Stark thing? Sinclair said you defended me.”
She laughed softly. “I know you love her and wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.”