His face sobers, and he looks down at the sandwich in his lap. “I’m sorry, Adley. I know a baby is the last thing you want right now, but I’ll take care of you. Whatever you need,” he says, looking up. “I’m here to help.”
Tears spring to my eyes as the words I threw at him the last time we talked come tumbling back to me.
“No, I’m not happy…”
“I had dreams…”
“Instead, I’m going to be a single mother because I got knocked up…”
I hate to think I said those things, and I part my lips to tell him just that—that I’m happy about the baby, and I’m glad he’s the father—but he finds his words before I do.
“How’re you feeling?”
“Good.” I nod, fighting back the tears. “I have an appointment later this week, if you’d like to come.”
His eyes light up. “I’d love to.”
“It’s Friday at three o’clock. Will you be able to make it at that time? If not, I can try to reschedule.”
“Adley, I wouldn’t miss it for the world. And my boss is pretty lenient,” he says, grinning. “I don’t think he’ll have a problem letting me off. Especially if it involves you.”
That reminds me... “Lincoln, did you tell my family about the pregnancy?”
He shakes his head. “No. I told Rhett and Coop about us because I hated lying to my best friend. I’m sorry if I should’ve talked to you about that first.”
“It’s okay. I understand. I told the girls, so I can’t really be mad at you. And my brothers didn’t kill you, so that’s a plus.”
Lincoln laughs, and my heart aches. I’ve missed that sound so much.
“Adley, you have to know I would never tell them about the baby without talking to you. I figured that’s something we would tell them together.”
“When the time is right. I’ve read some books, and the risk of a miscarriage is highest in the first three months. I figure we’ll see what the doctor says; maybe she’ll be able to give us a better estimate of how far along I am, and then we can start telling people when we hit the three-month mark.”
“That’s a good idea.” Lincoln’s eyes dip to my stomach. “The baby’s good? Everything feels…normal?”
“So far so good. I’ve had a little morning sickness, but nothing too bad.”
Lincoln nods toward my stomach. “Can I touch you?”
Can he touch me? I want to strip naked and throw myself at him, beg him to touch me because I crave his skin against mine. But that’s probably a little excessive.
He looks up, waiting for my answer, and I manage to nod.
He seems nervous and uncertain as I take a step forward. When I’m within reach, Lincoln takes my hips and gently pulls me close. Slowly I lift my shirt, revealing my stomach. It’s still flat. Sometimes I swear I can see a bump, but then I tell myself it’s just my imagination. I’m not far enough along to show yet.
“Do you want a boy or a girl?” he asks, studying my stomach.
“I don’t care. As long as the baby is healthy.”
A small smile touches his lips. “That’s how I feel too. Although I’d really love a little girl with your dark brown eyes,” he says.
His fingers graze my belly button, and then he flattens his palm. His hand is so big, it nearly stretches all the way across my stomach. I can’t help the shiver that runs through me. The warmth of his hand seeps through my skin and wraps itself around my soul like a blanket on a cold winter night.
The need to touch him is too strong, and I’m tired of resisting. I thread my fingers through his hair. Lincoln leans in to my touch, but he doesn’t move his eyes from my stomach. His thumb rubs gently against my skin.
“I’m going to make this right,” he whispers.
I bite my bottom lip and close my eyes. A tear drips