I step around the counter before I can talk myself out of it and take them from him. My fingers brush his, just barely, and it sends a stupid, familiar spark straight up my arm.
“Thank you,” I say, and I mean it. “You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to,” he replies quickly.
There’s a pause. An awkward one. The kind heavy with everything we don’t know how to say anymore.
“I was wondering,” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes flicking everywhere but my face, “if you’d maybe have dinner with me tonight?”
My chest tightens. I glance back towards the office, where I know Mrs. Wainwright is probably pretending not to listen.
“Erm . . . it’s just . . . well, there’s Pete to consider,” I say, keeping my voice low.
He nods immediately, no hesitation. “Of course. Bring him along.”
I frown. “Bring him?”
“Yeah.” He shrugs like this was always the plan. “He’s gonna be sticking around, right?”
“I mean . . .” I hesitate. “Maybe. It’s a little early to say.”
“If he’s taking on a pregnant woman,” he says, calm and certain, “he’s sticking around, so bring him.” His jaw tightens. “We can talk about how it’s all gonna work.”
I arch a brow. “Right. I guess I can ask him.”
His sudden eagerness twists something deep in my chest. This isn’t the Kade I know. He should be bristling, possessive, barely holding himself together.
Instead, he’s accommodating, reasonable.
And that unsettles me.
I take a calming breath as I run the brush through my hair.
“I don’t know why you’re even bothering,” mutters Martha.
I place the brush down and stare at her reflection in the mirror. “Why are you so against him all of a sudden?”
She shrugs. “Why aren’t you?”
“Because we’re having a baby together.”
“So, that means you have to forgive him?”
I turn to face her, and she slumps farther into the pillows on my bed. “I’m not forgiving him.”
“It sure seems like it.”
“You think I wanted him to show up?” I ask. “I was quite happy thinking he’d given up on me. On us. That we were just gonna be a family of three. And to be honest, I wasn’t sad about it. I don’t know how I feel about Kade anymore, but I sure as shit know I don’t forgive him. And there are things to discuss, like how we’re gonna parent a child when we live miles apart. Or if I even trust him to keep our child safe . . .” I trail off, the words stinging. Tears fill my eyes at the thought of handing over my child to the club each weekend.
“Sorry,” Martha mutters. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I think I preferred it when he didn’t show interest,” I admit. “Everything seemed less complicated.”
“You don’t have to agree to anything you’re not comfortable with. Contact can be here, in your home rather than at the club.”
“That can’t be forever though. He’s got just as much right.” I groan. “And I’ll have to get a fake breakup with Pete out the way, and soon. I hate lying.”
She grins. “It’s a small lie to keep him at a distance you feel comfortable with.”
