“You’re neglecting to answer my question,” I told her.
She turned her disgusted gaze from my toothbrush and toothpaste to me, and the look slid right off her face and became… more.
“I don’t hate you nor do I not want you to come,” she said softly. “It’s just incredibly hard to be near you.”
My brow rose.
“Earlier you asked why I couldn’t move in with you,” she continued. “I don’t think I can share a space with you and keep my hands to myself. I’m sorry.”
I didn’t want her to keep her hands to herself.
In fact, I wanted her hands all over me.
I didn’t say that, though.
“I…”
“Not to mention these pregnancy hormones are a bitch,” she continued, speaking over me. “I’m pretty sure if you were in the same house as me, I’d be forcing my attentions on you at all hours of the night, and I just don’t think that’s a good idea when you’ve been trying your level best to stay as far away from me as you could while still being in the picture.”
I had been doing that.
Honestly, it was the same issue for me.
She didn’t have the utterly unattractive male clothing on anymore that swamped her body.
In fact, she’d been wearing cute as hell sundresses, sexy little shorts and tank tops, and tight ass yoga pants and even tighter shirts.
There was no more wondering what was behind her clothes, because she was showing me.
Torturing me slowly.
Which had been why I was avoiding her.
I couldn’t be around her and not pop a chubby.
It was getting embarrassing.
“I want you to be there,” she said. “I want you to be at every appointment, because I want you to want it for yourself. I don’t want you there because you have to be. Or because you’re just in the vicinity because my car broke down and I can’t drive myself. Does that make sense?”
Her question had me grinning like a loser. “Yeah, it makes perfect sense.”
She slumped slightly, as if she hadn’t liked telling me that.
“But what I also know is that I do want to be a part of your life. Our baby’s life. Had it happened a little more normally, I don’t think I would’ve done anything differently. I honestly am kind of terrified of having to tell your father and mother and brother, oh and let’s not forget your really fucking scary grandfather, about the fact that I knocked you up. I also am kind of hesitant to be super excited because after I tell them that, I have a feeling that I’m about to lose my life, or at least the ability to use my legs. Then there’s the fact that I haven’t been around much this last month, and I don’t want to hurt you or possibly make you feel like you’re unwanted. I really did need to get my shit in order. And, just sayin’, but my life is nowhere near in order. But now that you’re here, I think that it would be a good idea for you to stay.”
Her brows rose then, too. “Stay?”
“Stay.” I nodded. “In my life. Because I know what I want, and that’s you.”
She shook her head as if to clear it. As if she thought for sure she was going to wake up and realize that these past few minutes had been a dream.
“Now,” I said. “I need a new shirt because I’m pretty sure this one smells like coffee since I spilled it on myself about five minutes before you came in. Let me go do that. While I am, will you go let the cat out?”
She blinked. “Let the cat out?”
“Yeah.” I pointed at the cat that was by the back door. “She usually goes outside to do her business. Let her in when she’s done. If she’s not done by the time I get back, then she can just stay out there until I get back to let her inside.”
She shook her head, turning to the cat. “It took me two months to get Sarge to always go outside since he was so used to going wherever he wanted after being in a shelter. And you have a fucking cat going outside like a damn dog.”
I snorted. “Don’t give me credit where credit isn’t due. That was actually the previous owner’s doing. The cat was left behind with the house.”
She came to a sudden stop halfway between the back door and me.
I looked at her in surprise. “What?”
“The previous owners didn’t have a cat, Sin.” She looked at the cat worriedly. “Are you sure it’s real?”
I rolled my eyes and walked to the door myself, picking up the cat and bringing it back to her.
“It’s a black cat to boot,” she murmured. “It has two different colored eyes.”
“It does. Is that a problem?” I wondered, giving Snowball a good scratch.