She turns and buries herself in my chest, her arms holding me tightly. This is the way things should be. I hate she’s sick and vulnerable, but the fact that it’s me she’s holding onto, looking to for comfort, makes my heart speed up. Granted, I’m the only one that’s here, but I’ll take it. She could be pushing me away. Running my fingers through her hair, her bare breasts push against my chest, and I’m sure she can feel my hard dick pressed against her belly. I can’t take advantage, no matter how much I want her.
“I thought my cooking was going to do the trick,” I say, making her laugh a little.
“I’m sorry,” she says, pulling back slightly, and covering her breasts with her hands. “I’m a mess.”
I pick up her pajama shirt from the floor, helping her put it on, then reach for her toothbrush and toothpaste.
“That’s what started this whole mess. I get sick every time I brush my teeth. I think it’s the mint in the toothpaste.”
I hand her a cup full of water, encouraging her to rinse, then sit her down on the toilet. “Be right back.”
New house—haven’t even been here a day, but I’m really hoping there’s some cleaning supplies somewhere. My mom always kept stuff in the laundry room and kitchen, so I rush to the kitchen first, finding some cleaning spray under the sink.
Rushing back to the bathroom, I find Kailey has put on her pajama bottoms, but is sitting right where I left her. “Is it alright for you to smell this stuff?”
“Would you rather I smell the puke?” she asks, cracking a smile.
“Good point. I’d move you to the other bathroom, but you’ve already been on your feet too long. Do you need to shower again? Did it get in your hair?”
She examines herself. “No, you did a good job. Might need to keep you around.”
“I hope so,” I say, now seeming as good a time as any to flirt with her. She looks down, her skin turning rosy. “Why don’t you get into bed while I finish cleaning?”
Luckily, she was over the sink, so the cleanup is pretty simple and goes quickly. When I come out of the bathroom, I find Kailey snuggled under the covers. She looks up at me, and I know she’s about to apologize for getting sick, so I cut off her off and ask, “Do you need anything?”
“Actually, I’m hungry,” she says with a little shrug.
Unable to help myself, I chuckle. “How about crackers and water?”
She frowns. “How about salsa and chips?”
“You have to be kidding me,” I say, but I dutifully head toward the kitchen, praying I don’t have to clean this up later. But I’ll give her anything she wants. Luckily, Maggie got salsa and chips when she stocked the kitchen.
I also grab the trash can to put next to the bed just in case. Kailey cracks up laughing when she sees me carrying it in, but quickly grabs the chips and salsa, digging in like she hasn’t eaten in years.
“What’s in those bags?” she asks, motioning to the canvas bags I brought in earlier.
“I bought some books for the baby,” I say, taking them out and putting them on the nightstand.
She stops eating, moving her snack to the nightstand. “You bought children’s books?”
“Yeah, I thought we could read to your belly every night. My mom used to read to me all the time. It was my favorite time of day, so I figured why not start now?”
“Utero – bed time stories,” she says with a smile. “I like it! Pick one.”
I reach for one, a Dr. Seuss classic, Hop on Pop. Kailey scoots over, making room for me next to her. This is hardly what I thought we’d be doing next time I crawled into bed with her.
Laying down beside her with my head close to her belly, I start reading, doing my best to animate the characters, change the inflection in my voice, the way my mom used to. My mom was the best. She was everything a parent should be—kind, loving, firm when she needed to be. Losing her was . . . It was like losing half my heart. I miss her every day, still. It makes me pissed and sad to think my child won’t ever know her.
I feel Kailey’s eyes on me, somewhat amused, but more than that. It seems like I’m always taking a test with her now. It totally sucks.
When Kailey called me “daddy” for the first time earlier, my heart stopped. I know she’s pregnant. I know the baby’s mine, but the thought of someone calling me “daddy” wasn’t on my radar. Call me an idiot, but it’s true. I know jack shit about being someone’s dad.
My dad did an okay job raising my brother and me after my mom died. It was hard on him. It was hard on all of us, but he and I butted heads a lot growing up, especially around the time leading up to me leaving home. He thought I should graduate. I thought a GED was fine. He thought I should go to college. I wanted to be a singer. He thought Maggie was a bad influence. I know Maggie saved me.
After everything that happened, I had to get out of there.
My dad didn’t understand. Things weren’t bad between us. I pushed him away like I do everyone else. It’s safer that way. Even the people that are close to me – like my brother, Knox, and Maggie – are kept at arm’s length. They respect the things in my past that I want left there.
We’re right here! We’re not leaving. My ghosts whisper. I shake my head, willing my dark past to stay hidden.
My dad’s gone, and I regret that I wasn’t a better son. But I can be a good father. I will be.
Closing the book, I look up at Kailey, her eyes closed, a small smile on her pink lips as she sleeps. I guess bedtime stories work on pregnant women, as well. Damn, she’s beautiful. I remember how silky her hair felt as it slipped through my fingers, how soft her lips are. I want to feel it all again.
My gaze slides down her body, stopping on her belly. “I finally got you alone,” I whisper to my unborn child. “You’ve probably been hearing your mommy and I fussing at each other a lot, but I don’t want you to worry. I’m going to make her happy. I promise you. I’m going to make you happy, too.”
I look back up at Kailey, making sure she’s still asleep before moving up beside her to whisper, “Remember our night. Remember how you felt.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Kailey
No one falls in love the first night they meet someone, but I could. I could fall in love with this man.
His body is the stuff of legends, but it’s the way his blue eyes pierce through me that has my heart wondering. What could this be? Turn into? Who is this man? What’s his story? Or am I just starstruck?
“Did you always want to be a musician?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “I don’t want to talk about me. I have to talk about myself all the time. Tell me about you.”
I’m sure my life is boring compared to his. “What do you want to know?” I ask.
He leans in, smiling, his lips softly brushing against mine.
“You already know that,” I say, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks.
“There’s a lot I want to know,” he whispers, his voice rough. His mouth finds my neck. “Like whether you like to be kissed here.”
“Mmm,” I moan. “I do.”
“Where else do you like to be kissed?” he asks, his hands slipping under my shirt.