“Me too,” she murmured.
I stared at Warren for a few more seconds, taking in his serene expression and pink lips, and his perfect little nose. He was so precious. A gift.
“Congrats again, Bette. I’m really happy for you.”
My friend smiled but didn’t look away from her baby. “Thank you. And thanks for coming to see us.”
“Of course,” I said. “We’re friends. Hell, you’re my only real friend here.”
It was a lie but only a white one.
This time when Bette smiled, she looked at me. “I’m glad I got to know you, Ara.”
“Me, too,” I said, and the statement was completely true.
Thirty-Nine
Marc was waiting outside room 417, key already in hand. By the time I reached him, he had the door open. Together, we ducked inside, Marc pulling the door shut behind him and flipping the light on. I squinted against the sudden brightness, but it didn’t stop me from grabbing a pillow off the bed the way Marc had the night before. Few people came up here, but it was better to be safe than sorry.
Once it was in place, Marc swept me into his arms. We stumbled toward the bed, already undressing as we kissed. Our brief encounter in the kitchen had left my blood sizzling, and the hours since then had done nothing to cool the flames of desire. If anything, the anticipation had made me more desperate to be with Marc.
Too bad I’d had a visitor this morning.
We were on the bed, half dressed, him kissing his way down my body as he undid my pants when I broke the news. “I’m on my period.”
Marc froze, his lips just above my belly button. “Well, shit.”
“I know.”
I let out a frustrated breath as he climbed up the bed and stretched out next to me. He was on his side, his head propped up on his hand as he stared at me. Smiling.
“What?”
“I already told you,” he said, then planted a gentle kiss on mynose. “I’m happy.”
“Even though you’re not going to get laid?”
His grin stretched wider, and my heart skipped a beat at the sight of his dimple. “There are other things we can do.”
I laughed and swatted him. “You mean other thingsIcan do.”
He chuckled as he brushed a hair off my forehead. “That’s not all I meant.”
His expression grew serious when he leaned closer, and I wrapped my arms around him. We made out like teenagers. It had been years since I’d fooled around like that, and I’d forgotten how both frustrating and satisfying it could be. I’d also forgotten how much I liked just kissing a man. And damn if Marc wasn’t a good kisser.
Afterward, I lay in his arms like I had the night before, and we talked. About home about our childhoods, about what we wanted our futures to be like, about the friends and family we’d lost and the people we’d left behind and the people we’d met here.
“My friend had her baby,” I said as I swirled my fingers through his dark chest hair.
“The blonde you always eat with?”
I smiled, loving that he knew who she was without even knowing why it meant so much to me. “Yeah. It was a boy, Warren Alexander, and he’s absolutely beautiful. It’s strange, though, that I was so excited to see him. I’ve never exactly been a baby person.”
“Really?” he asked, sounding more curious than surprised. “You don’t like babies?”
“I’ve never been around them,” I replied, “and I’ve never wanted one for myself. But I guess it’s different when you know the baby was planned and wanted and will be loved.”
“Yeah, I get that.” He paused before saying, “But you don’t want one. I mean, you’re not going to keep the baby if you have one?”
