So I slid out long enough for her to turn. She held me and lifted one leg up, but her gaze was clouded and wonderful.
All that was missing was her telling me she loved me.
I wished for it as I finished and forgot the rest of my thoughts.
She held me until her body became more lax from our frantic fucking.
I let her go and grabbed my shirt, tugging it around her.
She held it and stared at me.
I grabbed my boxers to tug on and said, “Let’s get you in.”
As we walked back into the library she said, “You’re one of the good ones, Michael.”
My shoulders slumped in disappointment—she didn’t feel the same.
I held the door for her so that we could go back up the stairs together. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
She was wearing my shirt around her as we walked next to each other. “I mean it. You’re considerate, charming, sweet…”
I tensed but held her door open for her. “I sound like a teddy bear.”
The second we were in the bedroom, she yawned. Then she said, “And you’re drop-dead gorgeous, a great kisser, and you fill me entirely.”
I laughed and walked her to the bed as she was clearly tired. I held the blankets up, and we slipped in.
“We both know you take all of me,” I said.
She hugged her pillow and stared into my eyes. My heart whispered that she cared about me.
I wanted to believe we were on the same page.
Then she said, “Your goodness, though, is why we’re here and why you’re going to be a great dad.”
So no declarations. I had to speak up. I trembled and said, “I hope so. I’m nervous about it.”
“Why?” she asked as she cupped my face.
My heart pounded, but I traced her shoulder and arm. “Because I was raised via nannies and school. I’m not sure how to hold a baby. My own mother certainly didn’t hold me.”
“That was her loss because you’re great.” She smiled at me. “But I’ve not held a baby since I was a teenager.”
I kissed her hand, which she’d dropped next to mine. “That’s more experience than me.”
She shook her head. “That doesn’t make me a good mom, though.”
I kissed her forehead. She was sweet and kind and strong.
“Are you worried about it?” I asked.
She closed her eyes as though saying a silent prayer for a moment. Then she said, “Yeah. I mean, I took my sister to one party, and when I went to check on her, she was high.”
Interesting. She’d mentioned that before.
“She’s older than you, though,” I said.
She nodded. “Yeah, she is, and she married the man she’d dated since middle school.”
