“She did that for the first year we were together,” he said through his laughter. “I finally had to catch her before she slipped out of bed so she’d stop doing it.”
“I swear she was my exact opposite,” I griped. “I hate putting on makeup and doing my hair.”
I tilted my head back to look at him and found him smiling at me.
“You don’t need it.”
“What?”
“You don’t need all that shit—the makeup.”
“No, I need it. I’m just too lazy.”
“You don’t—your skin is flawless,” he said quietly, reaching up to run a finger down my cheek. “Your lips are already red, and when you smile, I swear people can’t help but smile back. It’s contagious.”
“You don’t have to say that.”
“What, the truth? Kate, you’re naturally self-confident. Rachel was beautiful, yes. But she worked at it, because she didn’t ever feel it.” He gave me a sad smile. “Don’t compare yourself with her. It’s like apples and oranges.”
“I guess old habits die hard.”
“I’m sure I didn’t help with that.”
“You really didn’t. Dickhead,” I replied with a playful scowl.
“I hate that I’ve seen you naked,” he said, shaking his head and making me rock back in shock.
“Wow, fuck you!”
I began to push away, but he held me tighter to his chest.
“Your body is insane, Kate,” he told me as he rolled over until he was leaning over me. “I look at you, and I don’t see the fucking ratty clothes you wear. I see the way your breasts bounce when I pull on your nipples. I see the way you clench your jaw when you come, and the way your red lips get swollen from sucking my dick.”
My mouth dropped open, and I looked at him in shock.
“You were my wife’s best friend. My dead wife. Do you get that? I look at you and I don’t see Katie who drove me nuts when we were kids, or Katie who was Rachel’s best friend. I see Kate, the woman who can take me hard then fucking begs for more. That’s not okay. What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?”
It wasn’t a hypothetical question. He was asking me what to do—and I had no idea what I was supposed to say.
His arms were shaking, and his eyes were cloudy with confusion. It reminded me of the first time I’d seen him, sitting at my aunt and uncle’s kitchen table for dinner—trying so hard to keep himself separate while they lured him into conversation.
I lifted my hand and laid it softly on his cheek, aching for him. It could have been my soft heart, or perhaps the pregnancy hormones that had me crying over puppy chow commercials, but I wanted to soothe him so badly.
I’d seen where this man came from. I knew his demons and his history, and I could practically feel the guilt rolling off him in waves.
“You don’t have to figure it out tonight,” I whispered. “You don’t have to do anything.”
“Yeah, I think I do,” he said painfully.
Then his lips were brushing against mine, so softly I could barely feel them.
“You should tell me to leave.”
“Why the hell would I do that?” I answered, sucking his bottom lip into my mouth. “It’s not like you’re going to get me pregnant.”
He froze then, and I regretted the words I’d let slip free. I swear, sometimes I had absolutely no filter.
He moved down my body without another word and pulled my nightgown up gently from where it had been tangled around my hips. When he was finally kneeling between my knees, he leaned down and pressed his face to my belly.
“You’re having my baby,” he announced against my skin.
I felt my eyes well up and tears drip down my face. Finally. He’d finally said it.
“Sure am,” I replied, my hoarse voice belying the nonchalance of my words.
“I’m going to do my best, okay?” he said nervously. “I promise. I’ll be a good dad to him.”
“You’re already a good dad.”
“But to this baby,” he replied, lifting his face and pressing his hand to my belly. “I’m going to be a good dad to this baby.”
“I never doubted that.”
“I did,” he confessed, his head rising to shamefully meet my eyes.
The truth of his words hit me like a ton of bricks, and I finally understood why he’d ignored the proof of our child for so long.
I nodded once, and he nodded back, as if, without words, we were making a pact then and there to take care of this baby we hadn’t planned for or wanted.
* * *
“So, I’m not going to get laid for a long time,” I said tearfully after a few moments, breaking the tension that I knew must be killing him. “You know, with the whole pregnant thing happening here. And you’re not going to be getting laid for a long time with the whole fighting-for-your-country thing…” I lifted my eyebrows as I wiped my hands over my cheeks and watched relief and something much softer move over his features.