Josh hesitated. “I really think you should—”
She patted the mattress again. “Just for a minute.” When he finally sat beside her, she took his hand. “I wanted to say how much I appreciate your help. Because I do. A lot.”
He chuckled then.
She peered at him more closely. “Something’s funny?”
“Riley, it’s okay.”
“Hey.” She poked him lightly with her elbow. “You deserve a boatload of thank-yous. You truly do.”
He nudged her with his shoulder. “It’s not the thank-yous I’m talking about.”
“Then what?”
“I meant that I understand,” he said.
“Er, what is it exactly that you understand?”
“Let me put it this way.” He pressed his lips into her hair. “Yes, I want to sleep in here with you, but I get that it’s a bad idea.”
She considered pretending she had no idea what he was talking about. But then she chuckled. “I’m that transparent?”
He shrugged. “We’ve got history. I know you.”
She stared up at him, unsure what to say. It happened right then—that flutter just beneath her rib cage followed by a definite kick. “Oh!” She put her palm to the spot.
“What?” Josh looked worried.
She gave him a giant smile. “Somebody just kicked me…”
His eyes widened. “The baby?”
She took his hand and pressed it lightly to the swell of her belly. “Wait…”
The kick came again. He let out a low laugh. “I’ll be damned… Wow.” They beamed at each other. And then they just sat there side by side, his hand on the outer curve of her belly. “There,” he said. He took her hand. “Feel…” He lowered her palm to the right spot, and there it was, that perfect, insistent flutter.
For several minutes they took turns feeling for the next kick. She let her head rest on his shoulder. She could sit there forever, leaning on Josh, willing their baby to kick one more time.
But then he shifted beside her. “I should go.”
She sat up straight. “Of course.”
He stood and then bent to press a kiss to her forehead. “Good night.”
She waited until he reached the door before replying,“’Night, Josh.” A moment later, the door clicked shut behind him.
For several seconds, she stared at that shut door, feeling sentimental and ridiculous. He was only in the other room—and yet she missed not having him right here with her.
Carefully, she stretched out, eased her bad ankle back under the covers and got it propped on the pillows at the foot of the bed.
Under no circumstances would she text him right now. He’d just left, for heaven’s sake.
And as soon as she had that phone in her hand, there would be no stopping her. She would end up begging him to come back to her room—just for a little while.
But then a little while wouldn’t be nearly enough. In the end, she would find a way to convince them both that it was perfectly acceptable for him to spend the night in her bed.
She turned off the light, closed her eyes, gritted her teeth and reminded herself yet again that she was not going to reach for her phone on the nightstand. No way.
