I swear in Italian and add, “I didn’t fucking know that.”
He eyes me as he hits the fourth stair.
It’s not a cautious enough look. It’s morewhy do I have to deal with the crazy-ass woman in the middle of the night?
Why?
Because I spent the majority of the past seven years living, working, and breathing in a space where I was never alone. Even when there was someone unpleasant around, there would be someone else not unpleasant nearby.
Being alone is different, and my mind doesn’t like the bumps in the night.
Unusual sounds don’t mix well with pregnancy hormones either.
So my brain is overreacting to a lot of things.
“Good girl, Jessica,” I say.
And my voice cracks.
My damn voice cracks.
I’ve cried a lot in the past three months. I sobbed when I hung up the phone after dialing in to watch Abby Nora’s baby shower. I cried in the damn bar I went to.
I cried in the middle of the one-night stand with arandom Italian guy who got me pregnant behind a Greek bar.
I cried when I found out I was pregnant.
I cried when I got morning sickness too bad to finish out my last contract on the cruise ship.
I cried when I boarded the plane to come home. I cried when I told my parents why I was home. I cried after I lost my first job here.
But I’ll be damned if I cry over someone who didn’t have the freaking human decency to tell me he was coming back three weeks early—in the middle of the night—like he just forgot he had someone living in his house.
Andthere’sthe caution I was looking for.
Unfortunately, it’s coming with a side ofyep, gonna have to deal with this.
I suck in a breath and order the damn hormones to get a grip.I am not crying over this man. Not in fury that he scared me. Not in relief that he’s okay. Not in aggravation that I’m drowning in every emotion known to humankind all at once.
“They say dogs are good judges of character. And you know what? I get it now. I get why she doesn’t like you. Because you’re an asshole. Welcome home, Holt. I hope your bed is lumpy and that your leg hurts like a bitch.”
Well.
That wasn’t like me.
But for two glorious seconds, it feels wonderful.
Right up until I realize I’ve slammed the door and left Jessica outside my room.
Which is quickly followed by the realization that if he’s back, I need to find a new place to stay.
Again.
Fuck.
I jerk the door open.
He’s made it almost to the top of the steps, which means he’s almost at eye level. “You done?”
