His right hand takes my left and interlocks our fingers. “I’m in agreement.”
“You are?”
“I’d actually been planning to get snipped before you came into my life as an extra precaution, but it wasn’t urgent. Then I thought you might be adamant you wanted one or two, and I’d have considered it. For you.”
My heart flutters. For a man who says he can’t love, this sounds pretty lovey. “You would have?”
“Yep.”
“And if I was pregnant?”
He chuckles. “We would’ve figured it out. We’re a team now, baby. You and me, we’re doing this. What you want, I want. I’m just glad we’re on the same page.”
Relief fills me, and I kiss his chest. “I love kids. And I really like Bernie. I just... I kind of feel like I’m cursed. No need to risk it.”
“You’ve been through a lot.”
“And I’m kind of scared of what it would do to me.”
“What do you mean?”
Tears sting my eyes, and I wipe at them before they can fall and dampen his T-shirt. “There are so many things in life that make me wish I had my mom around to help with. And if I had a baby, I would need her with me, but she can’t be. Missing her tends to send me into my madness.”
“You know you’re allowed to spiral sometimes, right?”
“But what if I get stuck there?” I whisper.
It’s become a very real possibility lately, and it scares the hell out of me.
“Then I’ll be there to help pull you out.”
“You’re one of the only things that reminds me there’s still good in my world. That I’m deserving of the good.”
Laughing, he bumps our hands against his chest. “Me? Good?”
“I know you don’t see it, but you are good. In your soul. I know it. I feel it.”
“You’re not looking hard enough.”
“You short yourself too much,” I whisper. “But that’s what makes us work so well. We complement each other.”
“I like that you see me this way, Yellow Crayon.”
The front door opens, and Zep turns on the lights. Misty walks in with red eyes, and I jump off Tucker.
“What happened?” Tucker asks Zep, pulling himself up off the couch.
“She, uh, has preeclampsia and something with the placenta,” Zep says, his voice unsteady. “Bed rest for the rest of the pregnancy.”
Misty’s bottom lip trembles. “There’s still too much to do. And the café…”
When her eyes fill with tears, I hug her, holding her as tightly as I feel comfortable. “You have a family to help you. It’ll be okay as long as you take care of yourself.”
“The café, though. I have to do payroll and inventory and pay the bills—”
“We’ll figure it out,” Zep says. “Baby, you have to relax.”
“Relax? Are you serious, Zep?”
