“Shorts, please.”
He holds up a pair of blue shorts with a red stripes down the sides. “These okay?” He pulls out a T-shirt next.
“They’ll work.” I play with the fabric in my hand when he hands them to me. “I’ll go, uh … change in the bathroom.”
I’m getting my pervert on when I shut the door behind me and smell his shorts. Fresh linen. I never knew what that smell was until my mom bought me the scented candle for Christmas. It was my favorite scent until I got a whiff of Dallas’s fresh linen.
Even with my growing stomach, I have to tie the drawstring tight around my waist to keep the shorts from falling to my ankles. I grab the shirt and contemplate taking off my bra. It’s usually the first thing I dispose of when I walk through the front door, but I’m not alone.
I unsnap it, snap it back, hesitate, and decide to leave it on. I pull the shirt over my head and pause to take in my reflection in the mirror before going back out. I grimace and smooth my hands over my hair. Rain turns it into a frizzy mess.
“Dinner is served,” Dallas announces when I walk out. “It didn’t take them long to microwave it.”
I laugh. “Gourmet ramen at its finest.”
He scoots out the desk chair, so I can sit down, and he places the corn dog, French fries, and the Styrofoam bowl of noodles in front of me.
“I lived off this stuff when I moved to LA and was looking for a job. Hell, even after I found a job, I ate it more than I should have because I was lazy.” I grin and kick his foot when he sits down on the bed. “Meanwhile, your lucky ass got to live in Stella’s guest suite that was complete with a gourmet chef.”
He hooks his thumb toward his bowl. “This might be giving him some competition, and don’t act like Stella didn’t invite you to move in every month.”
“That’s true, but I wanted my own place, you know? My own space. Believe it or not, I’m an introvert at heart.”
Stella also despised Brett, and they couldn’t be in the same room for five seconds without wanting to rip each other apart.
“Makes two of us. Lucy was the extrovert to my introvert. She could make conversation with anyone in the room. Me? I was cool with standing to the side and people-watching.”
I stiffen in my seat. Lucy. Her name always sends a bolt of mixed emotions through me.
Guilt from sleeping with Dallas. Jealousy that she was the one he adored, the woman he loved and shared a bed with without freaking out in the morning.
I nod and slurp a noodle into my mouth, attempting to appear relaxed. Dallas sets his bowl on the nightstand and slides to the edge of the bed until he’s only inches from me. I slurp my noodles louder and faster, sounding obnoxious, and act like I don’t notice how close he is.
He stays quiet until I swallow down my bite. “I was in a dark place then.”
I drop my spoon into the bowl. “What?” Why is he bringing this up? Abort mission. Please.
“That morning. Hell, for months.”
I fish the spoon out of the bowl, and my heart sinks at the pained expression on his face.
“Sometimes, I still am.” He scrubs his hand over his face. “Sorry for sneaking this shit on you after the nightmare of a day we’ve had, but I can tell it bothers you when I mention her.”
It’s only fair I’m honest back. “Hearing her name makes me feel guilty.”
He pats the space next to him, and I take the invitation, sliding between the small space between us and sit down next to him.
“If anyone should feel guilty, it’s me,” he says.
“I obviously played a part in it.”
He didn’t fuck himself.
“And today was not a nightmare. I enjoyed myself,” I add.
“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”
I smack his arm. “You know I wouldn’t lie about that. I’ll take every chance I can to bust your balls.”
“Point made. I enjoyed myself, too. To be honest, lately, the only time I seem to be in a happy place is when I’m with you.” He lets out a heavy breath. “You took me out of my stressed out, broken world and gave me a good day. Same with the night we spent together. I like myself when I’m with you. I forget about the loss and the hurt. You make me feel alive again.”
I nod. He misses Lucy and will always miss her but is opening up a portion of himself for me to discover.
Keep going.
No, stop. Red light. Don’t drag me down this tunnel if it ends in hurt.
Keep going.
Why can’t I think straight? I need to think with my head, not my heart.
“If I could take it back, I would,” he goes on.
“Take us back, sleeping together?”
“No, take back my behavior. I might’ve not been all there, but I didn’t bring you to my home for a simple fuck. I promise you that.”
I bump his shoulder with mine. “It’s my turn to say you don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”
“Babe, no bullshit. The opportunity for a quick fuck has been open to me several times, but I’ve never succumbed to any advances. Not one. Drunk. Sober. Horny as hell. It wasn’t only my dick that felt a connection with you. I didn’t want to admit that to myself that morning.” He shakes his head. “I’m still having trouble with admitting that you pulled something out of me.”
I wring my hands together. “Yes, there’s an attraction between us, but that’s as far as our relationship can go.” I refuse to be second best to another woman.
He rests his hand on my knee and sucks in a breath. “I know. We’ll stick to staying friends and co-parents. I didn’t say that in hopes of having sex again. I said it, so you’d know I never meant to disrespect you, and what happened that night seems to be what makes us uncomfortable most of the time. I don’t want that.”
“Me either,” I whisper.
“Good. Then, it’s settled.” He wraps his arm around my shoulders. “We’re new besties.”
It’s almost midnight.
Even though we had the no-more-awkwardness conversation, it has yet to leave the building. Everything was fine while we finished eating, when we had to share a toothbrush because there was only one in the vending machine, and even when we watched endless episodes of Cops, which I learned is his favorite show.
Our problem now is going to bed.
We have to make ourselves comfortable and slip underneath the sheets. The lights will go off. There’s intimacy involved in this whether we like it or not.
“You ready to admit, you’re tired?” Dallas asks when I’m on my eleventh yawn. He chuckles. “Come on, go to sleep. You’re not going to miss anything exciting here.”
“Fine,” I groan out. “If you insist.” My shirt rises when I slide down until my head hits the rock-hard pillow. The air in the room grows thinner when I peek up and notice his eyes pinned to my exposed stomach.
He lifts his hand. “Can I?”
I nod in response since I’m struggling for words. My stomach flutters at the same time he presses his steady hand against it. It dawns on me that he’s never touched my stomach like this before. Not even during the ultrasound.
His touch comforts me, the opposite of what I thought would happen, and I settle myself on my elbows to watch him. He’s gentle, treating me like I’m expensive china, and he cradles my skin with his hand in awe.