“Oh, you have decaf?” she asks a beat before she reaches for the bottle and her fingers brush mine.
Her entire body jolts at the innocent contact, and I’d be lying if I said my fingers aren’t tingling and my blood isn’t on fire.
Bringing her here might be the right thing to do, but I have a feeling it might also be a very, very bad idea.
“Um…yeah. I picked up some decaf just in case,” I mutter quietly as I scurry away.
“Just in case of what?” she probes.
“Just in case…anyone might come here who needs it.”
45
BEATRICE
Things I’ve learned since walking into Everett’s home:
One, he has the coolest apartment in the world with the best bathtub.
Two, making him blush might be my new favorite thing to do.
“Everett, did you buy me decaf coffee?”
“You, my friends, anyone who might like it, really,” he says, his voice a little higher than it usually is as he tries to play it off.
My smile only grows.
Not only did this man go to the store on the way to my apartment earlier to buy every remedy for morning sickness he could find online, but he also insisted I needed peace and quiet and brought me here. Sure, it might only be for the day, but I’ll take it. And he’s stocked his kitchen with decaf coffee.
Thinking back over his thoughtfulness has my eyes burning and my nose itching.
No, please. Please don’t start crying.
While he’s got his back to me, brewing up a storm with his coffee machine, I discreetly wipe away the couple of tears that spill free.
“What did you want to eat?” he asks while I open the packet of crackers I brought out here with me.
“Brunch would be great,” I tell him before taking a bite.
“Pancakes? Waffles? Bacon?”
When I don’t respond instantly, he spins around to see why.
A laugh tumbles free when he finds me snacking.
“I didn’t think it possible, but I think I might have found someone who eats more regularly than I do.”
“Hey,” I complain. “It’s your fault.”
He raises a brow. “Hey, those condoms were in date, thank you very much.”
“And I took my pill as regular as clockwork, so don’t go looking at me,” I counter.
“Safe to say it was a joint effort,” he concedes before picking up two mugs and walking over.
“Thank you,” I say, accepting it happily and bringing it to my nose to inhale.
Everett watches me as I take a sip and take a moment to decide if I like it or not.
