“Not right now.”
“Well, help yourself.”
“Thank you.”
I give her a quick smile and nod before turning around and heading to bed myself.
“You know, in my past, usually when a guy suggests staying the night with him it involves more than just actual sleeping,” she says, stopping me dead in my tracks.
I swallow before turning around to meet her gaze, choosing my words wisely.
“Yeah? Wouldn’t know.”
She smirks. “So…thank you.”
Relief hits. Thank God that wasn’t going where I thought. That would have been real awkward.
* * *
In the morning, I poke my head out to see if Karissa’s still asleep or not. I’m starving and the dogs have to go out. It’s almost 8 a.m. I don’t know the last time I slept this late…especially on a Sunday.
I don’t want to wake her, so I try to stay quiet, but the sound of the dogs nails tapping across the floor causes her eyes to open.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “They’ll stay out for a while though, so go back to sleep.”
She sits up, struggling a little. “No, it’s good. I’m good.”
“You drink coffee?”
“Yeah, not black though.”
“How’d you know?” I joke.
She smirks and points at me. “Tattoos.”
“Tattoos mean black coffee?”
She laughs with a shrug, and I head to the kitchen. I hear Karissa rummaging through her bag before heading toward the bathroom.
I pull open the fridge and grab a carton of eggs, a jug of milk, shredded cheese, and the pack of bacon I opened yesterday morning.
When I hear the bathroom door open, I glance over my shoulder. She’s wearing my sweatshirt now—her stomach rounding out the front like it was made for her.
“You want an egg sandwich?”
“Sure, if you’re eating that. I’ll eat whatever.”
She sits at one of my barstools and looks around; neither of us speaks.
I hadn’t really thought this part through. Where she goes from here. Right now it just feels like I’ve got a roommate.
A very pretty,pregnantroommate who I sorta would worry to see leave.
* * *
I skipped church, given the circumstances, but now I’m here, pulling up to the main house for our weekly family lunch.
Late, of course.
