She gave me a wry look before pulling into her apartment complex, stating, “I think you’re a bit late on the date, sugar.”
With a dark chuckle, I said, “You’re wounding my ego. I want to take you on a genuine date if we’re going to be in a relationship. I would have done as much before… before that happened, but you were being stubborn.”
She kept her mouth sealed tight, rolling her lips between her teeth until we were out of the car, getting our stuff out. “I may have been stubborn, but you wore me down.” After giving me a wink, she unlocked the door, then said, “If we’re going on an actual date, I’d like to do it when I haven’t been traveling all day.”
She swung the door open and led the way inside, tossing her bags on the floor by the table. Which was where I stopped short. The sight of the stuff for her pump, the amount of it, made me sick to my stomach. I had done some research on hyperemesis gravidarum. It was extremely dangerous for her and the baby if it wasn’t kept under control. Just her throwing up at my parents’ had probably stolen a good amount of her reserves. I hadn’t even noticed her doing anything with it while we were there, which told me it was another thing she wanted to keep to herself, something she wouldn’t share the burden of.
Next to the pile of medical supplies were neatly stacked textbooks on computer science, some I actually knew from my own studies. And next to that stack was an even bigger one of about twenty different pregnancy/baby books. My stomach turned. I’d done my fair share of research, but nothing near this. She was reading about baby sleep patterns, breastfeeding, first-time parenting, and so on. At the very top was a book titled You’re Going to be a Dad! that had me sweating bullets.
She cleared her throat after a full minute of me standing there staring at the book on top with wide eyes. My gaze snapped to hers. I didn’t know what she would see there—terror, anxiety, fear—but it had to be plain as day since I couldn’t compose my damn face. Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth, eyes searching mine.
“I got you a book.” With a shrug, she flicked her wrist at it. “I’ve been reading a lot. Trying to get ready, you know? I didn’t want you to feel left out.” She shrugged again, wrapping her arms around that bump as if to protect it even more than her womb was already doing.
It was impossible to tear my gaze from hers. She was getting ready to take care of this kid to the best of her ability. I wanted to do the same, longed to be the best dad I could be, but I didn’t even know where to begin. My dad was a great example, but I still had no clue what the hell I was doing. I wasn’t even going to be there for the birth. She’d been so thoughtful to think of me, to get me that book so I might feel a little more prepared, and I think I loved her for that. For not judging me, for not expecting me to be perfect but doing what she thought would help me along. She just kept blowing my mind.
“Thank you,” I told her, meaning it. My breathing finally steadied, the sweat subsiding. “So, dinner.” I cleared my throat, running my hands through my hair. “Can I take you out tomorrow?”
Mouth quirked, she leaned a hip against the table. “I have two classes tomorrow and a late shift at the diner. But we could do it the next day. I only have one class on Wednesday.”
That was right. She had scheduled her appointment around her classes, and then she had to work. Her having to work after going to school all day, and in her condition, didn’t sit well with me, but I wasn’t sure what I could say about it. Not yet, at least. I had high hopes her doctor might suggest she take it easy so I could tell her I would take care of everything. I made a substantial amount of money and had spent very little of it over the last four years. Taking care of her would only make me feel like it actually meant something.
“Okay. Order out for tonight, then? Or do you want me to make you something?”
“Ordering out sounds great.” The smile she flashed made me feel dazed. This woman had me wrapped around her fingers already. “We could hang out and watch a movie, too. There’s one on Netflix I’ve been dying to watch but haven’t had the time to yet.”
Once the food was ordered, she told me I could put my stuff in Ava’s old room, even though it was bare. I planned to sleep on the couch. Even if we were trying out the dating thing, I didn’t want to barge into her space. That might make her close up again. She changed into black leggings that made her legs seem even longer than usual and a loose-fitting purple tank top that did little to hide the growing bump.
I pigged out on pizza while she nibbled on a piece and sipped some Dr. Pepper, having had a change of heart about how hungry she was. She picked some kung fu movie that wasn’t half bad—and she seemed to be enjoying it even more than me. Who knew chicks could have such great taste in movies?
The pizza made me think of that first time I’d met her when helping Ava move in over a year ago. We’d flirted and picked on each other. I gave her my email address, and she started emailing me the day after I left.
Halfway through the movie, she’d slumped over and passed out. I softly adjusted her so she was across my lap in a less pretzel-like position. A light snore was my reward for letting her sleep there. After the movie, I moved her to her bed, and she didn’t even open an eyelid. While cleaning up our dinner, I wondered how exhausting growing that baby actually was on her.
She shuffled from her room around seven the next morning with the cutest little waddle I’d ever seen in my life while I fried eggs and made toast. The grumpy look on her face was even cuter. Before saying a word to me, she went straight for the coffeepot.
“I figured from the looks of your creamer and coffee mug collections, coffee’s an important thing for you to wake up to.”
That earned me a grunt and a nod, making me chuckle. Stray hairs stuck out from her braid, and some mascara was smudged beneath her eyes, but she didn’t seem to care, which was refreshing. Even in this shape, she was beautiful.
With every sip of coffee she took, she let out a long, low groan. Which had the same effect on me that her growling had the day before. I paid close attention to the sizzle and pop of the eggs to keep from pressing her against the counter. Then the heat of her was right next to me, her glancing over my shoulder at the eggs. Her jasmine and orange scent didn’t help with my control situation.
“You can actually cook,” she pointed out with blatant wonder.
The comment cleared my mind some. With a snort, I drawled, “Yes. I can cook.”
“No, I mean they actually smell good and you haven’t burnt anything.”
“Please stop. Your compliments will go straight to my head.” I gave her a wry smile, adding, “I have lived on my own for some time, you know.”
“Sure, sure.” She waved a hand at me. “I’m gonna have to scarf that down so I can be on time for school.”
The toast popped out of the toaster right when I flipped the eggs on the plates. There was enough room for us to sit at the table since I’d moved the books to the counter. All of them except the dad book. That one was on the coffee table where I left it after staying up reading it for a good chunk of the night.
“What are you doing today?” she asked around a bite of toast. She was in fact eating some of the food.