“We already established no kissing,” I started, and he nodded. “And I don’t think we should touch each other in public.”
The muscle in his neck jumped before he dipped his head in a nod. “Okay.”
“This is just messing around, right?”
He nodded again.
“I don’t think it should go further than that, then,” I said.
His forehead creased. “Further?”
“Sex. I don’t think we should have sex.”
His expression cooled, but he flexed his fingers. “Okay.”
I stared, waiting, like he might add some of his own input to this. But he remained silent.
“Do you have any rules…?”
“I’ll take what I can get of you, Park. I’m not going to add any more restrictions to that.”
Shock mixed with a world’s supply of guilt rendered me speechless. “Beckham,” I whispered, the word pained.
The spark that was there moments before faded, and he lowered his head. “It’s all good.” He met my gaze again, a small smile pasted on his lips. “Like I said, I’ll take what I can get.”
I hated this. Hated the weird in-between we seemed to be stuck in. But I couldn’t offer him more, not when us getting together meant him taking on the responsibility of my son.
“Speaking of…” I focused on my fidgeting fingers. “I think I should find somewhere else to live when the baby comes.”
His silence had me looking up. His eyes hadn’t leftme, and he ran a rough hand down his mouth. “You really think that’s best?”
“Isn’t it?”
“No.” There was no hesitation in his answer. No reservations.
“Beckham, I’ll have ababy.”
“Okay.”
“Why are you being so nonchalant about this?”
“Because you’re acting like this is all some complex scenario that I might not be able to handle. When have I ever backed away from anything when it comes to you? When have I ever made you think I wouldn’t be there for you through everything?”
“This isn’t just me anymore,” I said quietly.
“Who else is this about then? The asshole who got you pregnant and walked away because he was scared of what his own actions caused?”
I shoved off the stool, our chests nearly touching. “All I am right now is baggage, Beckham.”
His hands cupped my neck before snaking up to my hair. He angled my head up so I had no choice but to look at him. “Don’t you ever say that about yourself.”
A tear slipped down my cheek, and I batted it away. I hated how easily I cried these days. “It’s true.”
One of his hands slid out of my hair to rest on my belly. His touch warmed me from the inside out, and I wasn’t sure if it was my baby or the butterflies causing my stomach to flutter.
“This is all too much,” I quietly admitted, thewords barely coming out through the tightening of my throat. “I’m not ready.”
“Yes, you are.” His thumb stroked back and forth. “When have you ever not conquered what life’s thrown at you?”
