Page 18 of Touch Me

“Which you may have given to Nikki and Abby.”

“I didn’t think about that.”

“Well, the spreading of the plague notwithstanding, did youthree have fun?”

“Please. You know we did.”

He grins. “I figured as much. I actually thought aboutpopping over for a good night kiss, but I assumed that would break some maritalrule.”

“And you were right.” I pluck a few chocolate chips and popthem into my mouth. “We had a total blast,” I continue. “We ate brownies andwatched Romancing the Stone.”

I don’t quite look him in the eye, even though I tell myselfI have no reason to feel guilty. It’s not like I’m actually lying.Everything I said was true.

Everything except the part about Abby being there. But sinceAbby is Nikki’s business partner, I figure she was there in spirit. And whatRyan doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

For a moment, he says nothing. Then he takes a sip of hiscoffee, camouflaging the fact that he’s still saying nothing. But inside allthat nothing is that weird vibe. I don’t know what it is, but I’m pretty sureit’s not him worrying that I’m sick.

Or maybe my hormone addled brain is just paranoid.

Silence lingers as I pluck out four more chocolate chips.Then he says, “Jamie. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Jamie. Not Kitten. And in that firm, Master of theUniverse, tone.

I lick my lips. I want to tell him. I do.

But I can’t seem to make the words come. So instead, I shakemy head. “Nothing. I’m just feeling off, you know?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he simply looks at me. Then, tomy shock, he catches my chin, pulls me to him, and captures me in abone-melting kiss. I can feel the frustration rolling off him in waves. Whynot? He knows me better than anyone.

And I know him well enough to realize that he’s fully awarethat I’m keeping something from him.

It’s my chance to come clean. To tell him about the news Igot last night. News I’m still trying to process.

I open my mouth, sternly ordering myself to just spill it.But I ignore that inner voice and offer nothing more than a little shrug.

He sighs. “Is it work?”

I start to argue—to stick fast to the lie and reiterate thatI’m sick. Instead, I nod. Why not? At least that conversational path is linedwith the truth.

He closes his hand over mine. “Everything’s going tochange.”

My chest tightens—he’s talking about the pregnancy afterall. But how—

“You’re recognized on the street now, but after DeadCertain comes out everyone’s going to want a piece of my wife.”

I smile up at him. “But only you have her.”

He brushes the pad of his thumb over my cheek. “Only me.”Then he leans in, and I sigh, expecting the sweetness of his kiss. But his lipsonly brush my forehead.

I pull back with what I’m sure is a picture-perfect What TheFuck expression, but he only grins.

“I’ll share most anything with you, Kitten. But not thestomach flu.”

As I roll my eyes, he hurries away to dress, and I’m leftalone with my malodorous coffee and absolutely no idea what to do now. Notabout my career. Not about my body. Not about anything.

I don’t know what I want.

I don’t know my options.