He walks to the other side of the kitchen island, puts down two large paper bags from the Indian restaurant downtown, and starts pulling out takeout containers. “White noise machine? Like whale songs and stuff?”
I chuckle, leaning over and resting my elbows on the counter. “I think it has a setting for that, but I tend to stick with the regular white noise setting. It’s more of a staticky sound. Like you’d hear on an untuned radio?”
He stops with a container halfway to the counter. “And that works? How did you figure that out?”
“I didn’t figure it out,” I say with a chuckle. “I read it in one of my many baby books. I must have bought out the entire pregnancy and parenting section of the bookstore when I found out I was pregnant.”
A flash of sadness cross his face before he smiles and continues unpacking the bags like nothing happened. “You read a lot of books, then? You must be an expert on babies now.”
“Ha! Not even close. I don’t think a single one of those books agreed with what any of the others were saying. There are as many ways to care for a baby as there are babies on the earth. Other than the white noise machine, I’m not sure I learned anything from those books that my mother didn’t teach me better. If you’re looking for a baby expert, she’s the one you want.”
“So, you’re close with your mom?” Archer opens a cupboard, getting lucky on his first attempt, and pulls out two plates, before moving on to pulling open drawers. He doesn’t fare as well with the drawers, opening several in a row.
I suppose I could be a better host and help him find what he’s looking for, but I’m frozen in place because of how right it feels having him in my kitchen like this. Like he fits. It doesn’t hurt that his butt is nice to look at, either. Really nice to look at. A little whimper escapes my throat before I can rein it in.
“Phoebe?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah. My mom. We’re super close. Having Lincoln would have been so much harder if she hadn’t been there with me every step of the way. She came to all my prenatal appointments and everything. Although it took me a while to get used to the idea that she was going to be in the delivery room with me, I must admit.” He hands me a plate and directs me to serve myself. “I wasn’t ready for her to get up close and personal with my vagina, you know?” As soon as the words leave my mouth, my face heats.What the hell, Phoebe? Why would you tell him that?
Archer snorts a laugh and coughs. It takes a few tries of him banging on his chest with his fist before he gets himself under control.
“Ah, of course,” he says with a chuckle. “I guess that would be weird. I know I wouldn’t want my parents having front-row seats to my prostate exam or anything.”
And it’s my turn to choke on a laugh.
I calm myself and we both fill our plates before taking them to the table and sitting across from each other. The silence is so heavy after the laughter of the last few minutes that my shoulders sag under the weight.
“So, do you think your friend will really be able to get us the results today?”
Archer puts his fork down and wipes his mouth on a napkin, and I can’t help but watch with rapt attention. His lips look as kissable as I remember. I wonder if he tastes as good as he did that night.Nope. Don’t go there, Phoebe. You don’t get to wonder about that. He’s here for Lincoln, not me.
“I think Mark’s team will do everything in their power to get the results to us as soon as they can.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table and lacing his fingers together above his plate. “Can I ask you something?”
Shit. I think I know where he’s going with this, and even though I can probably hold off until the test results confirm what I already know, I kind of want to tell him. I think. Maybe. I know I’ll eventually have to tell him why I was so sure Lincoln was his, even without the test results.
I stutter and lose hold of my fork, sending it clattering to my plate. “Su-sure.” I nod. “Yes, go ahead.”
He drops his hands to his lap and drags in a ragged breath. He looks up at the ceiling and blows out a breath. “Canyoueverforgivemeforthatbullshitmessage?” He blurts it so quickly I don’t catch what he says. It sounds nothing like the question I thought he was going to ask, though.
“Pardon?”
He takes another deep breath and exhales slowly this time. “Can you ever forgive me for the message I left you? I was an ass. The hugest ass. A post-BBL Kardashian ass.”
I chuckle, relief washing over me. Maybe I won’t have to tell him after all. Thank god. I’m not ready to tell him why I know for a fact, without a test result, that the baby is his. Because telling him why I hadn’t slept with my fiancé? Yeah, that’s not a story I look forward to sharing.
“Yes, I forgive you. Truthfully? You were barely a medium-sized ass. You didn’t even swear at me. But let’s never talk about the Kardashians again. I’m not sure I enjoy knowing that you keep up with them.”
He sags against the back of the chair. “Thank you. And I don’t give a shit about the Kardashians. Eric does, though. Every time he’s at my place, he puts their show on. I learned all of my Kardashian knowledge against my will.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, sure.” He’s so easy to talk to. I guess I’m going to be spending a lot of time reminding myself he has a girlfriend. I guess I have some pining to look forward to. Awesome.
“The information you gave me with the letter was…perfect,” he says. “That was very thoughtful. I have to tell you, though. I haven’t had the courage to read through the birth summary yet.”
I snicker. “It’s not very graphic, but I understand. I probably could have waited to give you that information until after we got the results of the paternity test.”
He nods. “That’s part of it. But it’s mostly because it felt weird reading about it. I read the first few lines where it talked about your early labor and…” he shrugs. “I may have overreacted. I promise I’ll try to read it.”
Felt weird reading it? I wonder why.
