“And, Wrenly?” I call out. “You can have whatever the fuck you want, too,” I say, my voice a bit husky. And I swear to fuck, I mean that in every way possible. Even though I don’t tell her that, at least not yet.
Her eyes flick up to meet mine, her lips part in awe again, and she just stares at me. I’m kind of wishing she were on her knees and looking at me with my dick out like that, but I’ll take it as is right now.
A few minutes later, food is plated, Ryan has woken up, and I watch as he sleepily rubs his eyes while sitting in Wrenly’s lap. She cuts up his food before sliding his plate in front of him. Then she sits a bit sideways so she can attempt to cut hers up, too.
“Wrenly,” I chuckle, shaking my head before I reach for her plate.
“What are you?—”
Using my knife and fork, I cut her meat and potato for her. “You want butter and sour cream?” I ask, not even looking up.
“Yes, please,” she rasps.
After finishing up the plate, I slide it across the table to her and begin to eat my own food. “Thanks,” Wrenly says before she clears her throat.
I look across the table at her. She’s watching me, appearing confused as she does. Instead of asking her what she might be confused about, I wait for her to speak. She looks down at her plate, then shifts her gaze to meet mine again.
“Thanks,” she murmurs but doesn’t say anything else.
I have a feeling that she has something else to say just by the way she’s watching me. But she doesn’t. I watch as she stabs her steak with her fork and then brings it to her lips. She chews, her gaze flicking over to Ryan to check on him.
Something about this moment makes my whole spine straighten—it comes over me. I don’t want them to leave. They are sitting at this table in my house, and it feels right. It feels like every moment I skate onto the ice. Like this is meant for me. They are meant for me.
Meant to be mine.
I’m not sure I can let them go back to Texas, and at the same time, I don’t see how I can keep them from her father.
“Now that you’ve slept on it, do you have any more questions for me?” she asks.
She shifts her attention from Ryan to her plate, not looking up as she asks me that question. Wrenly is either scared or nervous, maybe both. I don’t know her enough to guess, and I’m assuming that she feels the same way and doesn’t know me enough to gauge my reaction.
“I understand why you didn’t tell me at first. I’m not angry at all. A little disappointed, but I’m not mad at you, Wrenly. I can’t imagine what you were thinking and feeling. I don’t know how I would have reacted then.”
She nods a couple of times, then slowly lifts her gaze to meet mine. There are unshed tears in her eyes, and I want to reach forward and wipe them away. I don’t do that, at least not yet. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing here. I’ve never even had a girlfriend before, and I sure as shit never had a baby and baby mama. I’m completely lost at what the next steps are here.
I do know that I don’t think I can just let them walk away from me. This feels so right that I know I need to keep her for myself. They are mine. Even if they aren’t sure of it yet, they are absolutely mine.
“It wasn’t easy, but I was selfish. Don’t give me a pass.”
Then it hits me.
“You want me to be mad?” I ask. “Because you feel guilty?”
A single tear slides down her cheek. “I did,” she exhales. “And I feel so guilty.”
Shaking my head a couple of times, I place my fork down, even though I’m hungry as fuck. Pushing my chair back, I stand, then make my way around the table and to her side, her and Ryan’s side. Grabbing the legs of the chair, I gently turn it to face me.
My gaze focuses on Ryan as he shoves a handful of blueberries in his mouth. They fill his cheeks, and it’s cute as fuck. He smiles and then starts to chew his food. Shifting my attention from him, I look up at Wrenly.
Staring into her eyes, I just take her in for a moment. I can now see the guilt that’s swimming behind her gaze.
“You have absolutely nothing to feel guilty about. You did what you had to do. You and Ryan are healthy, and you’re happy. That is all I can ever ask for.”
“I kept you from him, I kept him from you, and I kept your family from him for fourteen months. That should have never happened,” she rasps.
Shrugging a shoulder, I try not to agree with her. Because, to a degree, she’s right, but it doesn’t matter. Nobody can go back in time. And I can’t say that I wouldn’t have done the same if I were in her shoes. Because I imagine being pregnant after a one-night stand with a stranger who just slid into your DMs is fucking traumatizing.
Instead of saying anything, I reach out to cup her cheek and slide my thumb along her bottom lip before I shift forward and touch my mouth to hers. Her breath hitches, her lips part slightly, and I decide that I need to taste her. It’s not a want—it is definitely a need.
