Making it to the kitchen, I feel a sense of relief at finding the coffee pot empty. Setting up the machine and waiting for it to brew is just another reprieve, a few more minutes I can avoid facing what’s back in my room.
As I lean over the counter and close my eyes, the sight of April in my bed flashes in my mind. The soft skin of her exposed shoulder. The roundness of her hip under the sheets. The bare skin of her leg that was curled out and over the blankets.
Jesus. I swore I’d be the perfect gentleman, and I plan to keep that promise, but I can’t seem to manage keeping the sight of her in my bed out of my head.
I want to pace around the room, convincing myself to try and ask her if a real marriage, one the guys mentioned earlier is possible. Could we get to the point where we do more things in our bed than just sleeping?
Fuck. I should let the guys take me out back and beat me bloody for just letting those thoughts infiltrate my head.
There needed to be some serious conversation with her last night, but I just couldn’t open my mouth to talk about any of it. I’m afraid the house of cards we built so quickly would come tumbling down around us.
I know getting married to her is the wrong thing to do.
I know that either one or both of us are going to end up regretting it.
But I still wasn’t brave enough to open up about it.
I don’t know what I’m afraid of.
I groan, knowing that lying to myself is a new thing I’m not necessarily proud of.
I was her first pick. The first man she thought of when she convinced herself that the trajectory of her life had to take a certain direction, but I also know that I probably wouldn’t be her last if I turned her down. She’d find someone else, and if I’m willing to say yes, then I know there are other men out there that would do the same.
She’s absolutely stunning and knowing that her body is going to transform over the next couple of months is making me insane. Her breasts are going to grow heavier. She’s going to get the perpetual glow only pregnant women seem to have. Her stomach will round with the miracle of the child growing inside of her.
I can’t imagine any man turning that down, being a firsthand witness to such things.
And I’m feeling violent, wanting to claw out the eyes of any man who would even consider being there for her.
“I know that look.”
I spin around and face a smiling Kid as he enters the kitchen.
“What look?” I ask, scraping my hand down my face to clear it of any thoughts that could be leaking out of my brain and showcasing themselves in my expression.
“The what have I gotten myself into look.” He chuckles, the sound grating on my nerves since I seem to be in the middle of a mental crisis right now. “I carried that same look for weeks after Khloe arrived.”
“I don’t have a look,” I argue, hating that I’m so transparent to him.
“I learned quickly that fighting it only causes more problems,” he continues, as if I didn’t just deny his observation.
“We aren’t the same,” I mutter as I walk out of the room.
I don’t grab coffee or something for April to snack on when she wakes. The only thing I can think of right now is to escape. I don’t want to have a conversation with the man about the trouble I’ve gotten myself into. I don’t want him to project his own situation on to me. This isn’t what he had with Khloe. This doesn’t end up with a happily ever after.
I’m reminding myself of that over and over, freezing when I step into my room, finding April sitting up on the bed.
My mouth runs dry at the sight of her hair in a tangled mess, and lines from the pillowcase pressed into her cheek. I bet her skin is still warm from slumber, and my fingers itch for verification.
“Hi,” she whispers, the word husky and still filled with sleep.
“Hey.” I enter the room fully, closing the door, and turning to enter the closet.
I don’t need a damn thing out of there, but I’m not in a position to explain the reaction my body is having at the sight of her.
“Did you sleep well?”
“Yes. Thank you for asking. How did you sleep?”
I didn’t get barely a wink. My body ached with you beside me all night, and I had to make sure I didn’t roll into you and wrap you up in my arms. “I slept great.”
With my body back under control, I turn to face her again, watching with my mouth hanging open as she lifts her arms over her head. As if the sight of her tummy exposed at the bottom hem of her shirt isn’t enough to torture me for the rest of my life, the low moan of relief that slides out of her perfect lips will live in my head forever.