I think he hears my unspoken words because his lethal, animal eyes melt. “No, she’s going to have blonde hair.”
Like you. Like her mommy’s.
He doesn’t say it either but I hear it. He’s not done talking though and these next words he says fiercely. “And she’s not a mistake. It doesn’t matter how she… she came into existence. But she’s not a fucking mistake.”
His words, intense and spoken with so much heat, shock me. They leave me speechless for a few seconds and all I can do is blink at him.
But then I notice something.
On the island, where he’s still standing bent over.
A book, and as I stare at it, my words burst forth. “You’re reading a book.”
He straightens up abruptly. “And?”
I ignore his defensive tone. “I’ve never seen you read a book before. Not even in school. But…” I’m still staring at it when it occurs to me. “It’s a pregnancy book.” I snap my eyes to him. “You’re reading a pregnancy book.”
His cheekbones are flushed and he rubs the back of his neck, frowning. “It’s not exactly noteworthy.”
He even picks up the book from the counter and puts it in the drawer, as if he’s embarrassed at being caught. And I can’t… I can’t help but think it is.
It is noteworthy and it is crazy and gosh, adorable that he’s so embarrassed. And so unlike him.
And I can’t help but ask, “You’ve been preparing, haven’t you? You’ve been reading up. For the past week. Like me.”
He stares at me a few moments, his jaw tight before he replies, “Yes.”
Yes.
He has. He’s been preparing like me.
Even though I’d been running from him, even though I hadn’t told him myself, he was getting himself ready. He was reading up on things like me.
“What if I had told you…” I pause to calm down my racing breaths. “What if I’d said that I didn’t… I didn’t want her.”
His eyes pierce into mine. “Then I’d have…” Now he pauses and I know that it is for the same reason as me, to calm down his heaving chest. “I’d have taken care of it. If that’s what you wanted.”
I know he would have.
I can see it on his face. In the determined look of his eyes. I also know that he wouldn’t have liked it; that’s also apparent on his face, but he would’ve let me make the decision.
Up until this point, up until he said it, I hadn’t known that it was important to me.
This freedom of choice.
As important as it is that he wants her too. He really wants her. He doesn’t think she’s a mistake, and suddenly, everything sinks in.
Everything settles in my bones, the relief, that I feel dizzy.
I feel it so much that I stumble.
But he doesn’t let me fall.
Like last night, he’s there to catch me. He’s there to put his hands on my waist to steady me. Not only that, he also picks me up and puts me down on the island.
“Are you okay? Are you… are you going to be sick?” he asks, his warm hands holding me tightly, keeping me grounded.
Without really thinking about it, I move closer to the warmth. I latch onto it with my fingers, grabbing onto his forearm and trying to breathe.
And I get a whiff of that scent again.
That scent which calms down my stomach, and I whisper, “What is that?”
“What?”
“T-that scent. It…” I swallow and dig my nails in his forearms. “It makes me…”
“Makes you what?” he asks, a thick frown between his brows. “What the fuck is going on, Fae? You want me to —”
I steal his words by fisting his t-shirt and pulling him close. I bury my nose in his chest and breathe him in, moaning, “Oh God.”
He cradles the back of my head, his chest swelling and contracting against my burrowed-in face. “What —”
I cut him off again, this time with words though. “What is that scent?”
His fingers flex on my waist. “What scent?”
I look up at him. “That scent. Coming from you. Your t-shirt. It makes me feel better. I know it’s not your regular scent.”
“What’s my regular scent?”
I nuzzle my nose in his hard, heated chest first before replying, “Wildflowers and woods.”
He’s offended, his chest vibrating with his words. “I smell like flowers.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Bullshit.”
I can’t believe I want to laugh when my body is rebelling against me, even though his scent and his heat have helped a little, but I do. I also want to tease him a little bit more so biting my lip, I tell him, “You do. It’s like super sweet and —”
“Yeah, let’s not talk about it.”
“What, boys can smell like flowers.”
“Your brothers tell you that?”
“They can also twirl, Reed,” I tell him primly.
He squeezes me slightly, his eyes liquid. “Thanks for all the information, Fae.”
“You’re welcome.” I nod, my lips trembling with an oncoming smile. “Oh, and it’s okay for them to taste like cupcakes. Like you do.”