Listening to him talk with obvious concern for my well-being and in turn, that of our baby, caused a huge lump to form in my throat. I did everything I could to stop my eyes from filling with tears, but I wasn’t very successful.
Everett thought he’d fucked up. The panic that he’d done or said something wrong was clear in his eyes, and it made me like him that little bit more.
I always knew I wanted him involved in our baby’s life, but I never thought I’d actually enjoy spending time with him. Of course, it’s only the first time we’ve really hung out, but it’s been great fun.
“Thank you,” Everett says as he shakes Diego’s hand. “Everything was incredible as always. Give my love to your parents, yeah?”
“You got it. It was nice meeting you, Bea. Enjoy the rest of your night,” he says as Everett holds the door open for me.
“You too,” I say before Everett follows me out toward his giant-ass car.
“I’m gonna call a rideshare,” I say, pulling my cell from my purse and scrolling for the app.
“The hell you are,” Everett grunts behind me.
“It’s fine. I doubt you live in my direction. I don’t want to put you out more than I already have.”
“I think I was the one who invited you to dinner,” he points out, his giant hand finding that comforting spot at the base of my back, forcing me to keep moving forward.
“And you paid,” I point out.
“I’m taking you home,” he states.
The truth is, I really want to climb into his comfortable truck and get a ride home. It’s much more appealing than waiting for a random driver to pick me up. But…having Everett take me home means telling him where I live, and…I don’t want to do that.
I don’t want to be ashamed, but I am. My new apartment signifies that something has gone very, very wrong, and I don’t want him to know that.
I have no doubt that he lives in a swanky penthouse in some multi-billion-dollar building.
I wouldn’t have cared last week. I was proud of my home. But right now, the last place I want to take the professional hockey player is my new neighborhood.
“My car is at the salon,” I blurt, suddenly figuring a way out of this. “Take me back there, then I can drive home.”
“Or you could get your rideshare in the morning so you can get home faster now,” he suggests.
“Are you trying to get an invite for coffee? Is that what this is?”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look really tired, and I’m trying to get you home so you can rest.”
“Right,” I mutter, my shoulders slumping in disappointment.
Stupid, stupid girl.
It’s not that I wanted him to want to come in for “coffee.” The last time we indulged too hard we ended up in this situation. But there’s a part of me that wants him to look at me like I’m still the same woman from that night. I’m not sure anyone has ever looked at me with so much hunger and desire in their eyes as he did.
Am I ever going to experience that again?
My body is about to change. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have the perfect one. My stomach is already a little softer than I’d like, but after growing a kid, it’s going to be even worse. Will anyone look at me with a baby resting on my hip and want me ever again? Or have I experienced the best of it? I guess I went out on a high note with Everett Donnelly. It certainly could have been worse.
You wouldn’t have allowed anyone else to fuck you against a club wall.
My cheeks heat at my own thoughts as memories flood back
“What’s that face for?” he asks as we come to a stop beside his truck.
“I don’t have a face,” I state, refusing to look up at him because, yeah, I definitely have a face.
He reaches out and tucks a finger beneath my chin, forcing me to lift my gaze.
