Page 20 of Knocked Up
“This is it?” I ask, taking the crappy tone out of my voice.
“Yep. Home sweet home.” Her eyes glance to the top level of the five-story building and her shoulders sink, as if the thought of walking up that many stories is already daunting.
She lives in a shithole. Across the street, two homeless men are huddled in the overhang to another building’s entrance. More are wandering up and down the street, most likely trying to decide where to hang for the day. Homeless people are common in Portland, and typically harmless. Hell, I never hesitate to either feed them or hand them a few dollars.
Knowing Cara lives where so many congregate settles like a rock in my stomach. She has to be careful. She’s pregnant with my child.
I’m three seconds from throwing my gearshift into drive and taking her back to my place when she opens the door. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Wait.” I climb out and close my door at the same time she does. “Let me walk you up.”
She shifts her gaze to the building and back to me, nodding. “Okay.”
Finally, accepting help unwillingly but without the argument. I could get used to this.
It’s at least a step in the right direction.
I meet her at her side of the car, and take the small bag I gave her to carry her medicine and some extra crackers I’d insisted she bring for the short ride.
Following her to the door, I look over my shoulder and notice the attention we’ve received—along with my BMW—and glare at the few men eyeing us. Damn it.
Her living here makes absolutely no sense. She has to at least havesomemoney.
“What floor do you live on?” I ask, as we take stairway after stairway. Turn after turn.
She looks at me over her shoulder. Already her healthy color from yesterday is fading.
Shit.
I move quickly, wrap her in my arms, and lift her.
Hands fly to my shoulders. “What are you doing?”
“What’s it look like?” For good measure, I flash her a wink. Damn, this feels good. Other than yesterday when she was passed out, there have been more times I remember enjoying her in my arms. I will those memories away before my dick springs to life like a teenager having his first glance of Dad’s stolenPlayboys. “What floor?”
“Top. Fifth floor.”
“Not to sound like a dick, but how have you been doing all these stairs with being so sick?”
“Slowly.”
The smile she was wearing disappears and I do feel like a dick. Something must have happened to me when we were in the hospital and I was watching fluids get pumped into her thin frame.
I’m protective of her. She has my child inside of her and hell if I’m letting anything happen to either of them. The fierce need to force her back in the car and return to my place returns. There’s plenty of room for both of us. I even have a spare for a baby’s nursery. Hell, I’m even considering what fucking color to paint the baby’s bedroom walls and I haven’t touched a single wall since I moved in…when she stops me and I set her on her feet.
She opens the door and waves me in but I freeze at the threshold.
“Holy shit. Did you get robbed?”
Chapter 7
Cara
“No, I didn’t get robbed.” I look around the one-room studio apartment just to make sure, but everything looks to be right where I left it, and I inwardly cringe. This isn’t the first time I’ve been embarrassed around Braxton, but I thought we’d be on level footing. I mean, how much can a tattoo parlor owner make? And I don’t care about the money, or how much of it he has, I’ve just been around so much of it in excess my entire life that part of his original appeal was he was sonormal.
Now, he’s living in an amazing penthouse, just as rich as every other guy I’ve dated. Who cares that my apartment is the size of a shoebox with my bed being a couch that pulls out and my clothes and art supplies are crammed into one room?
And, well, it could look like I was robbed because I’m not the tidiest person in the world. All my belongings are scattered, literally, over every single square inch of the apartment, including the floor. But, hey, maximizing storage space in a teeny-tiny rental is difficult on the best of days, and I’m saving for my future plans.
