“You sure?”
I nod, and he sets the sandwich in his lap and takes another bite.
“How’s your dad doing?” I ask.
“Doing great. Ornery as ever. Chloe stayed with him for the first week, and she checks in on him when I can’t.”
“They’re getting along okay?”
“Oh yeah,” he says, laughing. “Don’t get me wrong, they butt heads a lot, and Dad drives her crazy, but their relationship is improving.”
“That’s good. I’m glad to hear that.”
“They don’t have much choice but to get along now that she’s the one primarily taking care of him.”
I wonder how Chloe is dealing with everything. Even if she wasn’t handling it well, I’m not sure she would tell Lincoln. I know from our brief encounters that she feels like she owes him.
“Rhett told me you’re workin’ here now.”
He nods.
“What about The Barn?” I ask.
After he swallows, Lincoln grabs his bottle of water and chugs it. “I quit.”
My eyes widen. “Why? You love The Barn, and you love Roy.”
Lincoln looks at me as if I should already know the answer. “Because you’re here in Heaven, and I want to be close to you and the baby, not in Houston. I know you don’t believe me, but I don’t want to miss a thing.”
“Lincoln—”
He holds a hand up, and I close my mouth.
“Please don’t,” he says. “I’m not trying to rush this, or rush you. You were right. We both needed some time to think things through. Everything that happened between us was a whirlwind, and the time apart has allowed me to put things in perspective. It’s given me some much-needed clarity. I’ve realized a lot of things over the last two weeks.”
Well, I’m glad he found clarity.
It’s comforting to know he wants to be close by, and that he’s taken steps to make that possible. But I’m not sure if he’s here because of the baby—and because it’s the responsible thing to do—or because he really does love me and wants a shot at forever.
What I do know is that I miss him.
I miss everything about him.
“What have you realized?” I ask. Might as well find out.
Lincoln polishes off his sandwich and water. Crumpling the paper, he tosses it into the bag. “I’d much rather talk about you. How’s the studying?”
Blowing out a breath, I tilt my head at him. I want to argue, force him to talk, but the hard look in his eye tells me there’s no use.
“Good,” I say, taking a step closer. “My test is in two weeks.”
He smiles. “You’re going to do great.”
“I hope so. Even if I pass, I’m not sure what I’m going to do.”
“What do you mean?”
I shrug. “Who’s going to hire a pregnant woman?”