Little Secrets: Unexpectedly Pregnant

“I’m not a hundred and three, Linc! I don’t need anyone to stay with me. You know I hate having people in my space.”

Tough, Tyce thought, despite the little spurt of sympathy he felt for her. He didn’t like people in his space either but she’d just have to suck it up and deal.

“I’ll stay with you tonight—”

That was his cue, Tyce thought. Nobody was staying with her but him. He walked into the room, dumped her clothes on the foot of her bed and walked around the bed to look down at Sage’s phone into Linc’s worried face. Taking it from her hand, he ignored Sage’s annoyed “Hey!”

“Forget the roster, Linc. I’ll be staying with her.”

“Latimore,” Linc said, his eyes and tone cool. “Is that what Sage wants?”

Judging by her annoyed and fractious expression, Sage would rather have a mutant cockroach move in but he didn’t care. He was looking after Sage so that she could look after their baby.

And maybe you’re also doing this because you need to know that she is okay on a day-by-day, minute-by-minute basis? Tyce ignored the errant thought. He looked at Sage, who was squawking her displeasure.

“Pipe down, Sage. It’s a done deal, Linc,” Tyce said before disconnecting the call.

Her eyes hazy with pain, Sage tried to skewer him with a look. “You are not coming home with me and you are not moving in!”

Tyce jammed his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, conscious that the bottom half of his jeans was still damp from kneeling on the sidewalk beside her. He opened his mouth to argue with her and then noticed her pale face and pain-filled eyes. Dammit, he hated knowing that she was in pain and that there was nothing he could do about it.

Arguing with her was a waste of energy: he was taking her home and he was temporarily, very temporarily, moving in. As he’d told Linc, it was a done deal.

Placing both hands on the bed on either side of her hips, he looked into her face. “No BS. How, exactly, are you feeling?”

Sage opened her mouth, shut it again and the heat of her sigh caressed his chin. “The baby is fine. I’m not at risk of miscarrying if that’s what you are worried about,” she said in a quiet voice.

She had no idea that he wasn’t half as concerned about the baby as he was about her. The baby had its own custom-made airbag; Sage hadn’t had anything between her and the cold, hard sidewalk.

“Sage…” Tyce used his knuckle to lift her face up, waiting until their eyes connected again before he spoke. “I know that but I want to know how you are feeling.”

“My wrist is sore but bearable, but my tailbone is excruciating. It hurts to sit.”

Tyce had to touch her so he cupped the side of her face. “Have you had some pain meds?”

“Just acetaminophen. They also gave me some cream to help with the bruising.” She looked at her wrist, closed her eyes and sighed. “That’s not something I’m going to able to manage myself.”

Tyce laid his lips on her forehead, holding the kiss there for longer than necessary. She’s okay, he reminded himself as panic clawed up his throat. She’s okay…and the baby is okay… Breathe. When the unfamiliar wave of, God, emotion passed—yeah, Sage’s superpower was to turn him to mush—Tyce pulled back and dragged a smile onto his face. “I happen to like your butt and I have no problem touching it, with cream and without.”

As he hoped, Sage rolled her eyes and amusement touched her lips. She picked up her phone from the side table and sent Tyce an uncertain look. “Are you sure you want to look after me for a couple of days? Wouldn’t it be easier if my family took turns to help me out?”

Tyce straightened. “Probably. The thing is, Sage, you and I need some time to talk, to get to know each other again. We didn’t spend that much time talking three years ago.”

She blushed and Tyce knew that she was remembering the hours, days they spent in bed…not talking. “In less than half a year,” he added, “we’ll have this child and it will be affected by everything we do, from how we talk to each other, treat each other, interact with each other. I genuinely believe that we have to try to find a sensible way of dealing with each other.”

“And you think that way is to move in with me and rub cream on my butt?” Sage asked, skeptical.

“If I move in for a few days, we’ll have time to talk, to figure out a way forward, to talk about this baby and how it will change our lives. We can discuss your expectations, my expectations, how we’re going to tackle this.” Tyce pushed his hands into his hair, frustrated. The adults in his life had lurched from crisis to crisis, had been reactive rather than proactive. By moving in with her, she couldn’t avoid him and he’d be able to find out what type of father Sage wanted him to be and whether he could live up to her expectations.