Love.
Fuck.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Killian
Exhaustion dragged at him as they made their way home. But there were things to be discussed, plans to be made, revelations to be shared.
His instinct was to keep Aria as far from all of it as possible. To bundle her away upstairs with her books while he handled the messy bits.
But Reagan’s words from earlier were still playing on a loop in his mind. If you want her to fall in love with you, then you need to show her that you trust her.
Trust wasn’t an easy thing for a man like him. Especially now, when it seemed as though everyone he’d thought he could trust with the basic niceties—like not trying to murder him over calamari—was determined to prove him wrong.
Reagan was right, though. Not just because he did, indeed, need to convince Aria to marry him, but because Aria deserved his trust. She deserved to know what kind of world she was stepping into by having his child, and she deserved a voice in what came next.
Standing in the foyer, he turned to Reagan and saw the same shift he felt in himself. The happiness she’d been all but bubbling with the whole ride home drained away, leaving behind the ruthless strategist she’d had to become at far too young an age.
“Family dinner tonight. We need to talk about what happened today.”
“On it.”
Confident she’d rally the troops, he turned to the mother of his child, standing just off to the side, her expression closed to him. He ached for the distance he could suddenly feel between them, a distance that hadn’t been there at the doctor’s office or in the car.
“I’m going to ask you to do something, and you’re not going to like it. You’re going to want to argue with me, but I need you to understand that I’m not asking it of you because I think you’re weak or because I’m trying to send you away.”
Curiosity lit her pale eyes. “That sounds ominous.”
“It is. Very.”
A twitch of her lips gave away her growing amusement. “What is it you want to ask me, O’Rourke?”
Determined to close the distance between them, even if only physically, he stepped forward, cupping her face in his hands. “I would like you… to take a nap.”
She blinked, and then she did exactly what he’d hoped she would do—she laughed.
“I think I will, but only because I’m feeling tired. Not because you told me to.”
“Of course. Wouldn’t want me getting a big head and thinking I’m in charge.”
“Exactly.” She hesitated, looking uncharacteristically uncertain before she rose up onto her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “You’ll wake me for dinner?”
There was so much more beneath that simple question. She was asking to be included, to be part of the conversation, and he knew then he was making the right call, even if it went against his baser instincts. “I will.”
“Good.”
He watched her go, watched the gentle sway of her hips as she made her way up the stairs. “And Aria?”
Turning, she cocked a brow at him. “Yes?”
“If you need any help getting to sleep… you know where to find me.”
A knowing smirk curved her lips. “Or you could give me the code to the cabinet where you keep all the toys so I could help myself.”
“Not a chance, princess.”
“Can’t blame a girl for trying.”
