I roll my eyes. “Because I knew you’d turn it into athingwhen it’s actually not a thing at all.”
She snorts and shoots Kade a look. “Use protection, Kade. We all know how irresponsible you can be in the moment.” She points to my bump.
“Get out,” I groan, mortified.
Kade laughs as he steps past her, shaking his head. “It’s just so she’s not on her own,” he says calmly. “Nothing deep.”
“Sure,” Martha sing-songs as she heads down the path.
I shut the door with a huff and lean back against it, exhaling.
“Sorry,” I mutter. “She’s been a lot lately. Poor Rabbit’s going to earn his keep this weekend.”
Kade sets his bag at the foot of the stairs. “We both know the truth,” he says quietly. “You don’t need to worry about what anyone else thinks.”
I nod, something warm unfurling in my chest as I follow him into the living room.
“I brought supplies,” he adds, lifting a small bag. “I was thinking . . . bath first, then a movie, and takeout after?”
He pauses, watching my face closely. Waiting.
No pressure. No assumption.
“That sounds really nice,” I say softly.
The bathroom fills with steam, the air scented faintly with cherry blossom. Kade’s gone all out, with candles lining the windowsill, the harsh light switched off so everything glows soft and warm. Even the towel on the radiator is folded neatly, warming.
He tests the water with his hand, nods once, then steps back.“All set,” he says quietly. “I’ll give you some space.”
He turns towards the door. And something in my chest tightens.
“Kade?” My voice is smaller than I expect.
He stops immediately but doesn’t turn.
“Would you . . .” I swallow, my fingers curling into the hem of my top. “Would you stay?”
He turns slowly, like he’s afraid of startling me. “Stay?”
“With me,” I say. Then quickly, before he can misunderstand, “Just sit. Talk. You don’t have to—”
“Yes, of course,” he says at once, too fast, then he reins it in. “But only if you’re sure.”
I nod. “I am.”
He exhales, relief written all over his face, and steps back inside, closing the door gently behind him.
I move carefully, easing out of my clothes and into the bath before I can overthink him seeing me like this. The water hugs my body, warm and soothing, and I sink back with a gentle sigh.
Kade sits on the closed toilet lid, fully dressed, hands clasped loosely between his knees. He keeps his eyes on my face, not my body. I like that he’s showing me that kind of respect.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say.
Minutes pass in companionable silence. The candles flicker. The rain taps against the window. My muscles begin to unclench, one by one.
After a while, I say, “You don’t have to sit so far away.”
