Zulakya and Mesh have been texting on and off. She says nothing’s going on between them. The girl doth protest a little too much. And me . . . I updated them on the Miller drama as well as my trip to Boston. Seeing their shocked faces when I told them Sol and I were engaged was priceless.
I shake my head. “Nope. I’m not wasting my energy thinking about what he said. I mean, it really hurt, but I don’t think he’ll ever change, so yeah.”
Zulakya nods. “You don’t need that kind of negativity in your life. Take it from a person who’s experienced it firsthand.”
MJ mutters, “Hear, hear,” raising her coffee cup in the air. She sips her coffee, then stares at me. “So what is it?”
I avert my gaze, darting around the room and resting on the only customer in the store browsing the biography section. After my session with Dr. Taylor, I feel as though I have a handle on my fears. “Remember I told you Sol and I were together in Boston?”
Zulakya clutches her chest. “As if we can forget the play-by-play you gave us. You proposed, and he rocked your world. Freaking swoon!”
I roll my eyes and laugh, my cheeks heating. “Anyway, what I didn’t tell you was that I missed taking my birth control pills. And . . . well, I’ve been in panic mode ever since.”
“Oh, babe,” MJ says, reaching for my hand on the counter and squeezing it, letting me know she knows my story and where I’m coming from. “And now? Are you feeling better?”
“Yeah. I had a session earlier today with Dr. Taylor.”
Zulakya’s gaze darts back and forth between MJ and me. “Are your boobs sore or have they gotten bigger? You know, the usual symptoms.” She, too, knows my story. After we met last year and started talking, we ended up swapping life stories.
Subtly, I squeeze my left breast, then right. “Nope. And my period won’t be here for another two weeks.” I don’t have any signs to indicate my body is changing. Believe me, I was fueled by panic and searched the shit out of Google when I got home from Sol’s apartment. But then, it’s been almost a week since that phenomenal, unforgettable night in Boston.
“There you go,” MJ says, smiling.
I allow my lips to form a smile. “Yeah. Anyway, what are you two up to? Everything still going well between you and Ivan?”
MJ winks, then grins wide. “Yep. We will be visiting Mommy Dearest this summer. His mother. Not mine.”
I laugh at the mischievous look on her face. “I’d love to be a fly on the wall to see how that goes. What about you, Zu?”
“Heading home after we close up. Just me, my bed, and a good book.”
The little bell over the door jiggles, and the door opens. A group of women walk inside and greet us, before heading to the romance section near the back.
MJ jumps down from the stool and grabs her bag and coat. “I have to run. Laters!”
“I’d better go check,” I say once she leaves, rounding the counter and trailing after the women.
After arriving in Portland last night around seven o’clock in the evening, I drive to Sol’s place. Before leaving Northford, I texted my mom to let her know I’ll be spending the night at his place and to call me if she needs me.
After letting myself into the building and his apartment with the key he gave me, I find my fiancé lounging on the couch. A big welcome grin takes over his face as he stands up and pulls me into his arms, then kisses my forehead. I lift on my tiptoes and kiss the side of his mouth before meshing my lips with his in a kiss.
“Did you have a good drive?” he asks, when we pull apart. His eyes wander down my body, lingering on my stomach before quickly snapping back up to my face.
I roll my eyes at his attempt at being subtle. I’m floored that the possibility of me being pregnant hasn’t made him run for the hills. “Yeah. I’m famished, though. Do you have anything to eat?”
Sol’s grin turns into a soft smile. “Of course. Sit down and rest your feet,” he says, nodding to the couch before heading to the kitchen. He’s still using one crutch, but the limp in his gait has gotten noticeably better.
I follow him into the kitchen, taking in the way the T-shirt molds to his shoulders and chest. The shirt rides up to reveal his torso when he reaches for a plate from inside the cabinet. . .gah. I want him so much.
Rounding the counter, I wrap my arms around his waist, then press a kiss on his back.
“Hmm. I don’t think I’m hungry for food anymore.”
He chuckles, turning in my arms to face me. “Eat first.” He puts his hands on my shoulder, moving my arms, and rests them on my hips. “Play later.”
I frame his face in my hands. At the same time, his palms move to settle on my stomach, his mouth curling into a half-smile.
“I still can’t believe you’re not freaking out,” I say.
“I told you. You’re safe with me, Gracie.”
I’m about to tell him the same thing I’ve been telling him the past week or so because I’m worried he’ll be crushed if it turns out that I’m not pregnant. I’d thought about taking a home pregnancy test, but from what I read on the internet, the tests are more reliable if taken on the first day of a missed period.
He says, “I know, I know. The chances of you being pregnant are pretty low. Let me just enjoy this.”
Honestly? I’m starting to really want to be pregnant. I’m starting to be hopeful.
Sol takes my shoulders and turns me around, then smacks my backside as he guides me back to the living room, carrying my plate of food.
I wolf down the food in record time. I’ve never eaten so fast in my life.
Then I take his hand and lead him into the bedroom. I undress slowly as our eyes remain locked on each other. When I’m standing naked in front of him, he strips off his own clothes, then brings those hungry dark eyes back to me.
He takes my hand and leads me to the bed, lays me down, then moves so his front is flush to my back, and curls his body around mine. We don’t talk as he slides into me, then curves his arm around my waist and rests the flat of his palm on my stomach. He starts moving, his thrusts controlled as though he’s trying not to break me. When I push back and whisper, “Harder, baby,” his movements switch from careful to uncontrolled and fervent.
And I love every second of it.
The sunrays filter through the curtains, warming my face. I blink a few times to get my bearings, then remember I’m in Sol’s apartment. Our haven. My back is flush to his front, his arms wrapped around my waist, his palm flat on my stomach. Even in sleep, he’s still holding me as though he’ll never let me go.
I feel his breath tickle the hair on the nape of my neck as he stirs awake.
“Morning, Gracie,” he murmurs in a husky voice.
“Hey, you,” I say, shifting around to meet his hooded gaze. Then I run my hands through his tousled hair. “Did you sleep well?”
“After last night . . . yeah. God, I’ll never get enough of you.” He buries his face in my chest, nuzzling between my breasts. I wince at the soreness there, most likely as a result of his hands on me last night. His hips jerk forward, and I feel him, hard and heavy against my thigh. He groans, the sound vibrating across my skin. “How are you feeling?”