Last night, Matt was insistent on taking me home after our appointment, despite my reassurance that I’d be fine in a cab. The standoff over, I sat in his passenger seat, holding the ultrasound image of our little bean as the radio played low in the background. It’s the strangest feeling in the world to know I’m currently cooking a small human.Such a lot to get my mind around.I guess he must’ve sensed that as he pulled up outside the building.
“Whatever else,” he’d said, taking my hands. “I promise you’re not alone in this.”
Which is a whole something else to get my mind around. I have a bazillion questions about how this will work—the logistics, for one. And his family—will he tell them? Will our little bean have involved aunts, cousins, maybe uncles? Grandparents, even, who’ll live so far away? Will he visit? Will he want to bring the bean back for the holidays? Will he be there for the birth? And how long can I expect before our little bean gets a stepmom?How is it I’m already jealous of her?
My phone dings again.
Matt: I’m not saying I’m lazy, but if there was work on a bed, I’d sleep on the floor.
And then a second follows.
Matt: Now imagine that in my dulcet *Oirish* tones.
And then a third text.
Matt: In other words, there has to be some perks of being the boss, right?
I want to smile, but I won’t. The man is entirely too cute for his own good. Even when he’s being incomprehensible. Which might be another problem, if I let it go that way.
See you at 10?comes his next, and final, text.
Should I draw the line at being picked up? I’m not his girlfriend—he shouldn’t be running around London after me. The traffic is enough to make you want to tear out your hair from the roots. On the other hand, I don’t think I could stomach the hot-metal-and-grease smell of the Underground this morning.
I give in to a whole-body shiver at the thought of all that stale air and the carriage rocking.
Maybe I’ll draw that line another day.
Chapter 21
Matt
“You look nice.”
“Thanks.” She twists, reaching for the seat belt, though I still note the tiny pinch in her brow as she simultaneously reaches for the door handle.
“I’ve got it,” I say, making as though to close it. “That’s okay, isn’t it? Paying you a compliment. Telling you you look nice.” Because she does. Whether it’s the clothes she’s wearing, the muted tones, the fabrics that seem soft and inviting right down to her woolen bobble hat, or the fact that she seems to be glowing, I don’t know.
Or maybe it’s more because I’ve been thinking about her for weeks. Fantasizing. Wondering what if. Anyway, who knows why I feel the way that I do. Mother Nature and the mysteries of the world. What I do know is Ryan was the last person I thought about before I dropped off to sleep. And that she was on my mind the instant I peeled my eyes open.
“Yeah. I guess.” Her answer is nothing if not hesitant. “You look nice too.”
“Thanks.” I grin and close the door with a solidthunkbefore I say or do anything stupid. LikeHigh five! I put a baby inside you.
What the fuck is with that? Why does that make me want to preen? As if bombarding her with texts this morning wasn’t enough idiocy for one day.
“Where are we going?” she asks as I climb in and start the engine.
“For breakfast, if you can face it. You’re not sick or anything, are you?”Fucking calm down!
“I’m kind of starving and jonesing for a coffee. Decaf from here on out, I guess.”
“I know just the place.”
After a period longer than I bargained, thanks to the traffic, I pull to a stop just off Kensington High Street.
“It says ‘restricted parking.’” Ryan points to the signage. “There on a pole.”
“So it does,” I say, muting the engine anyway.
