Josie waves me off. “He’ll get over it.”
I don’t tell them that after they leave, I’ll go through the registry with Nik and we can change things up together. For now, I’m just happy because our families are gathered in one place, we’re all relatively happy, the air is cleared, and there’s not one, but two babies on the way.
We have a lot of reasons to count our blessings.
“Oh my gosh! You need this!” Grace shouts and Josie replies with, “What in the ever-loving hell is she going to do with that? It’s a twelve-hundred-dollar stroller! Who’s going to buy that?”
“Umm, I would! Look at it!”
“No,” Josie replies, pushing Grace away from Nik’s laptop I found in his office.
Nik walks into the living room to see Grace and Josie fighting over their place in front of the computer. He raises an eyebrow, shakes his head, and then goes to the kitchen. When he comes back, he’s carrying a six-pack of beer and a bottle of water that he hands to me.
“Feeling okay?” he asks quietly.
I nod. “Better than okay.”
“Good.” He kisses my lips. “By the way, I told the guys that you’re mine and I’m yours so unless you want these women to find out from the guys, you better let them know as well.”
With that, he walks out the back patio door and when I turn back to the ladies, they’re all smiling at me, having heard everything he just said.
Chapter Twenty-One
Nikolas - EIGHT AND A HALF MONTHS
She has no idea how I see her. She thinks that I look at her as the mother to my unborn child. Admittedly, that’s how I did see her in the beginning. But now? Now I see her as everything that I’ve ever wanted in a woman.
My best friend.
The love of my life.
The mother to my son.
Ashley has had me turned inside out over her since the morning I woke up with her in my bed, our memories of the night before a little fuzzy.
I want her everything.
How can she not see it? How does she not realize that I’m completely and totally wrecked for her?
Together, we’re perfect. My mind is clearer, my smile is permanent, my days brighter.
Apart, though, I’m a mess.
I’m hanging on by a thread here, wanting her more and more each day. Falling in love with her deeper by the minute. But I’m terrified. I don’t know if she’s ready for the same. I’m not blind. I know how she sees me. She stares when she doesn’t think I can see her. Ashley doesn’t realize that she’s all I see. I’m attuned to her every move.
However, thankfully, I also know that her attraction to me goes deeper than the surface. The question is, is she ready to claim me as hers? Is she ready for me to claim her as mine? I know I am. Beyond ready. I just don’t know where her head is at and the thought of losing her in my life isn’t something I’m willing to allow to enter my mind.
I’ll chase her forever if I have to, because there’s no one else for me. She’s it. I’ve been a goner for so long now, I don’t remember a time before her.
That thought that I didn’t want to get married again because of how my first one turned out and the second time I proposed went to shit? Gone. Replaced with a vision of her walking toward me, ready to commit to a life together. Forever.
Leaning a shoulder against the door frame, I watch her fold tiny onesies and other baby clothes that I didn’t know anything about until she came into my world. The baby shower her sisters hosted for her was insane. I’ve never seen so many gifts from people I’d never met. Thankful? Very much so. Concerned that we won’t be able to find a place to put it all? Very much so.
Grace and I haven’t talked much since she and Samuel split up. I’m glad that she and Ashley are working through it, but I can’t forgive and forget so easily. Grace said some pretty horrible things about not only me, but Ashley as well.
Ashley’s sitting cross-legged, her back straight, belly round with my son growing inside her, humming a song that I can’t decipher. Her long dark hair hangs in loose waves over her shoulders and down her back. The wrap around her wrist is already gone, her body mostly healed from the accident that could have taken her away from me. She’s not wearing any makeup on her face, having already washed it away from her day at work and honestly, she’s never been more beautiful to me.
All day long I think of her. There have been several occasions where I’m in my office, working on a bid for a customer, and I zone out completely. Rebecca, my assistant, will have to yell to get my attention. She smiles knowingly and I shrug. I don’t even apologize anymore. Why would I?
She must feel me watching her. The corners of her mouth tip up and her eyes flutter before connecting with mine. We’re a match, she and I. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Olive skin.
“Creepy,” she mutters. Happy and amused.
“Beautiful,” I counter.
She’s holding a dark blue sleeper, its edges trimmed in orange. It’s one I picked up. She didn’t fight me when I said our kid would be a Chicago Bears fan. She said that was fine, as long as I allowed him to come to his own conclusions later in life. The sleeper hangs from her fingers as she stares at me, wondering. Something flares in her eyes. Is it heat? Maybe it’s the same feeling I’ve been holding onto for the past months… hope. Ashley for more together. Her. Me.
“I’m a mess.”
I shake my head. “My beautiful mess.”
“Nik,” she whispers, her chin trembling. “You can’t say stuff like that.”
“Why not?” I push off the door and walk to her, crouching down so I’m eye level. I lift my right hand, my thumb making a trail over her cheek before sliding my fingers into her hair. Those intensely dark eyes of hers shutter closed, long lashes fanning out. Ashley sucks in a deep breath and shakes her head slightly.
She meets my stare again and she admits, “It makes me think things.”
“I’ve been thinking things since the first night we met,” I admit to her in a low voice. “You’ve just been trying to hide from it.”
“Nik.”
“Ashley.”
“I can’t do this.”
“Give me one good reason, Sally.” She gives me a small smile at the nickname and her hand finds her belly. I shake my head. “He’s on the top of the pro list, babe, not con.”
She moves, shifting to her hands and knees. I stand up and bend over, helping her do the same. “Thanks,” she breathes. “And to answer your question. No.”
“I didn’t ask for an answer. I asked for a reason.” I wink and she glares.
“You don’t have to be such a smarty pants, Harry.”
“Give me a reason,” I demand.
“I’m hungry. Are you?”
I follow her to the kitchen and she opens the fridge, pulling out a container of leftover rotisserie chicken, shredded cheese, and barbeque sauce, placing it all on the counter. I get out the tortillas because I know she’s about to make a barbeque chicken wrap.
The two of us work together, making our wraps. We put them on plates, along with some dill pickle spears. A couple glasses of chocolate milk are poured and we sit at the island to eat.