She stops and folds her arms across her chest like armor. “What?” she asks coldly.
“I’m sorry,” I say, and mean it. “That came out wrong. I’m just tired. And an idiot. Just—” I exhale. “Please let me drive you home. No lecture. Promise.”
She turns, studies me skeptically, like I might be lulling her into complacency. The porch light brings out the gold in her eyes, making them look bright, almost incandescent. “No lecture?”
“None.” I hold up a hand like I’m swearing in.
A long breath leaves her. She doesn’t move.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat. “I’m just— Stuck on the part where you and I… and now there’s more than one thing to worry about.”
Her arms hug tighter. “Me being pregnant isn’t some hall pass to treat me like an idiot.”
“I know.” I nod. “You’re right. I don’t think you’re an idiot, Paige.” The sigh that comes out of me has the whole damn day in it. “Come sit for a minute, at least. You want water? I’ve got—” I search my memory. “I don’t know. Crackers, maybe?”
A small smile crosses her mouth. “You’re going to have to cool it with the crackers. You’re going to dehydrate me.”
I laugh. “I know, but I don’t really know what else to do. Feeding you crackers and ginger is all I’ve got.”
“I’ll take the water,” she says. “Hold the crackers and ginger.”
“I can do that,” I say. “Come on.”
I unlock the door, and she follows me in, the darkness of the house wrapping around us both. The old clock ticks from the living room, and I flick on the soft light above the kitchen. She hesitates on the far side of the counter like she’s not sure if it’s okay to be here.
I pour water, slide a glass to her. She takes it and drinks. I lean back against the counter and feel my shoulders twinge a little.
“How was the rest of the day?” I ask. “After I came in.”
“Busy,” she says. “Perfect. Chaos. We ran out of everything. Also, my face hurts from smiling.”
“I bet,” I say with my own smile.
She sets the glass down and meets my eyes. “Thanks for coming in and for the promo. It made a real difference.”
“It was a good idea.” I tap my fingers on the counter. “You did great today.”
“I did, didn’t I?” A genuine smile crosses her face. “I haven’t really had a second to let any of it in or think too much about it. But it’s real. My shop. All of it. And it was amazing.”
Her eyes shine, and she’s closer now, both of us having moved without me realizing it.
I should take her home. I should walk her out, put her in the truck, drop her at her door, see the porch light snap on behind her, drive away, and take a cold shower.
“You really did it,” I say quietly.
“People kept saying congratulations,” she says, close enough that I can see the gold flecks in her eyes. “And I kept thinking, for what? And then I’d look around and remember—oh right, for this. For all of it. I did this.”
“Come. Sit for a bit,” I say and lift a brow before she can refuse. “Doctor’s orders.”
“Five minutes,” she says, and we both know it’s a lie.
We walk to the living room and stand in front of the couch, but neither of us sits.
She licks her lips, and I’m so close, I see every movement.
I should take her home.
Instead, my hand lifts on its own. I skim my knuckles along her cheekbone. Her eyelids flutter, and that’s all it takes for my self-control to wobble on its axis.
