“Right, well, that’s good. I have to go to work.”
“Now? You’ve been working in this heat all day.”
“Actually, you haven’t let me do too much, but I still need to pay my bills.”
“No, you don’t. You have me.”
The fact that he was still so blind made me want to rip my hair out. “I really don’t.” The stricken look on his face almost stopped me. “Goodnight, Rory.”
“I’ll be here tomorrow.”
I didn’t reply. What could I say? I just needed to get away from him. I’d used up a lifetime of tears on him already. “Lock up before you leave. I’m going to be late.”
At the diner, I’d be too busy to think about us. Thank God.
Counting on him was too dangerous. For my baby and me.
I needed to remember that.
Twenty-Two
I was going to be a father.
Me. The guy who’d killed a plant labeled “basically indestructible.”
The last day was basically a haze in my mind. I’d had more than twenty-four hours to come to terms with the idea yet I was still wandering around like a zombie. I could walk and carry on a semblance of a conversation, but my head was abuzz with white noise and panicked shouts that amounted to little more than…
Holy fucking shit.
After seeing
Ivy at her truck and getting the news—and an almost concussion from attempted homicide via vase—I’d driven around for hours in a stupor. I’d stopped in some pinprick-sized town and had waffles at a no name diner. They hadn’t had any taste and the texture had been like sandpaper, but that probably had more to do with my mental state than the quality of the food.
Then I’d driven to the nearest city and found a club. I was desperate for music. For something to fill my head that wasn’t those same panicked shouts.
Turned out the hysteria was better, since the music had been terrible techno crap and I’d snapped at every woman who had dared to approach me. I’d gotten down half a Guinness before I found my way to the door.
I almost called my mum. Almost called Ian. Hell, even Kellan with his gruff amusement or Flynn with his no-nonsense views on life might’ve helped me set my head back on straight.
In the end, I sneaked back into the bed and breakfast where I’d yet again booked a room and darted up the stairs like an escaped convict. If Sage had asked me more probing, borderline inappropriate questions, I would’ve broken like a burnt cookie. She would’ve heard all about how the needs of my loins had led me to early fatherhood with a woman who now thought I was equivalent to sewer sludge.
I didn’t blame Ivy for thinking the way she did. I hadn’t replied to her calls because of my own hang-ups. She’d wanted to tell me so we could handle the situation maturely.
Meanwhile, I’d hidden my head under the pillows to avoid finding out she’d dumped me for some guy named Ax who could’ve taken down her hulking brother without batting a…deltoid.
Sleeping off my misery was all I could do.
I’d gone to Ivy’s truck this morning full of resolve. I would help Ivy ready it for her opening day, which I gathered was soon. I would show her I could be depended on, despite my previous track record.
Sure, she knew me as the guy who rolled into town for sex and good times then rolled back out with little contact, but I had another side to me. I could be counted on.
Lo and behold, doing a day of backbreaking painting and cleaning tasks had proven shit to her. She said goodbye to me as if it would be the last one—and I wasn’t even sure she’d mind.
I suspected she had feelings for me. She’d enjoyed having sex with me at the very least, which was the source of our troubles. We’d enjoyed it a little too much and too often.
Already I wanted to get my hands on her again. It made me a caveman. A pig. I had no right to want to explore her new curves with my tongue. Yet I did. Even though I had not one clue what to do about the baby, I still wanted to be with Ivy and figure it all out on a path strewn with orgasms.
Good luck there, boyo.