by J. Lynn
I wanted to hug him.
“Hey Granddad,” Nick said, speaking like he’d normally talk to anyone. “I brought someone to meet you.”
My heart was pounding a bit. His grandfather was awake, but his rheumy gaze drifted over us as if we weren’t even there.
“This is Stephanie,” Nick said, taking a seat.
I sat down beside him, my hand still in his. “Hi.”
His grandfather didn’t respond as his gaze slowly moved back to Nick. “She is the girl I’ve been telling you about. . . .” Nick paused, shooting me a small grin. “I’ve been telling him good stuff.”
“I hope so.” My stomach toppled over itself.
“Mostly,” he added, and I grinned. Nick drew in a breath. “She’s the girl who’s going to make you a great-grandfather.”
I looked over at him, surprised. Telling his grandfather about me was a surprise, and it was a downright shock that he’d spoken about the pregnancy. I don’t even know why it was such a bombshell. I’d told my mother and she’d most definitely told every living person in the family by now.
“She works in the city and she eats tater tots,” Nick added.
My look of disbelief turned to one of wry humor, and then I turned back to his grandfather. “I’m sure you have nothing against tater tots.” Taking Nick’s lead, I spoke to his grandfather like I would anyone else. “I graduated from Shepherd University last spring, and I’m now working at the Lima Academy in the city. . . .”
We stayed in there for a little while, talking to his grandfather. It didn’t feel like we were having a one-sided conversation even though Job couldn’t respond. The truth was, he might’ve had trouble understanding what we were saying, but he seemed . . . calm. He watched us with milky, unfocused eyes, but sometimes—sometimes those eyes seemed to sharpen, dart back and forth between Nick and me. I wasn’t sure if those were moments of him comprehending us or if they were moments of him not knowing who we were at all.
I didn’t know, and it had to be so hard for Nick to constantly be confronted with that. I ached for him. I ached for his grandfather, but I did not regret being here, sitting with Nick, meeting the man who held it all together for Nick when their world came crumbling down.
It wasn’t fair—fair that a man who did so much would be knocked down by such a disease.
We didn’t visit very long, as his grandfather dozed off no more than an hour into us being up there. We quietly slipped out of the room and went downstairs. The moment we entered the living room, I said, “That went well. And I think he agrees that tater tots are awesome, so—”
Nick caught my arm and spun me around, startling me. He pulled me against his chest and wrapped his arms around me, holding me against him as tightly as I had wanted to hug him upstairs. He dipped his head, pressing his cheek against mine. “Thank you,” he said, his voice gruff.
I squeezed my eyes shut as I held him back. I didn’t have to ask. I knew what he was thanking me for. “There’s nothing to thank me for.”
“Yes. Yes, there is.”
We didn’t say anything after that for several moments. Instead, we stood there in each other’s embraces, and I think that was better than any words we could’ve shared.
Much, much later, when we sat on the couch side by side, our stomachs full, there was no resisting the broad, goofy smile on my face. There was no turkey or stuffing, no green bean casserole or mashed potatoes and gravy. But there were hamburgers and cheeseburgers and delicious, awesome tater tots, and it was one of the best Thanksgivings I could remember in a long time.
Chapter 25
Bundled up in a fuzzy hat and heavy coat, Nick and I braved the icy winds and the leftover shopping crowds on Sunday. Yesterday I’d helped put the Christmas tree up at his house, and while doing that, he discovered that I didn’t have a tree. So now we were on a mission to find me a suitable artificial Christmas tree.
“No matter what was going on, we always had a good Christmas,” Nick had said while rummaging through a box of meticulously packed bulbs.
For some reason it had been hard for me to picture him dragging out the Christmas directions every year and putting them up by himself. Or that he’d been the one to lovingly place all the antique bulbs back into their boxes. It was at such odds with his sultry, masculine appearance or the fact he spent three nights a week slinging beer, but then again, there was a lot about Nick that was surprising.
Now, the wind lifted the ends of my hair, tossing it around the hat as we crossed the crowded parking lot. Once inside, Nick veered off to the right and grabbed a cart as I watched a small child teeter on unsteady feet next to a woman who was trying to fit an even smaller girl into the seat of the cart, but the little thing wasn’t having it. She was kicking her legs in every direction known to man.
“That woman has her hands full,” Nick commented.
I glanced over at him and then turned back to the woman, who was now trying to buckle the child in with one of those wraith-thin seat belts. I wanted to ask him how many kids he wanted to have but figured that it wasn’t a Target appropriate question, and probably wasn’t even an appropriate question in general considering the lack of our relationship status.
“I cannot even imagine,” I finally said, watching as she picked up the toddler and started pushing the cart with one hand.
Nick grinned. “Let’s do this.”
The Christmas shop was in the back of the store, near the electronics section. Of course, we got distracted by the new array of tablets, then by movies and then by the books. When we finally made it to the Christmas shop, I was starting to sweat under my heavy jacket. Reaching up, I pulled the hat off and then smoothed the static out of my hair.
My lips pursed as we walked up to the trees. “There are so many and they look so real.”
He slid me a long look. “That’s the point.”
“Shush it.” I touched one of the prickly needles. “My mom always gets a live Christmas tree, so I never bought one.”
Nick nudged me with his hip as he stepped around the cart. “Well, let my expertise guide you into making the right choice.”
I grinned.
The wide and tall trees, the ones with frosted tips, which looked extraordinarily real, were the ones that lured me in. “I don’t think that’s going to fit,” Nick kept commenting as I moseyed from one gigantic tree to another. “How about this one?”
My brows rose. He was gesturing at a hot pink tree. “Um. No.”
He chuckled as we moved down the aisle and then stopped. “Actually this one would be perfect.”
This time he was talking about a slender five-and-a-half-foot Virginia pine. I ran my fingers along the frosted tips designed to look like it was dusted with snow. “I like it. This is the one. It has cherries.”
Nick glanced over at me, grinning. “I think they’re holly berries.”
“Aren’t they the same?”
He shook his head. “No, Stephanie. They aren’t.”
“Ha. What—” A sharp pain in my stomach cut my words off. Pressing my hand against my waist, I stood completely still as the burning sensation eased off.
Nick stepped toward me, his eyes widening, concern etched into his features. “You okay?”
For a moment I didn’t answer, because I wasn’t sure, but the pain didn’t return. “Yeah. I’m fine. I guess it was just a weird cramp.”
He touched my hand as he glanced around. “You sure?”
I nodded. “It was just a cramp. Probably the fried chicken.”
“You did eat a lot of fried chicken.”
My eyes narrowed. “Not that much.”
Some of the tension eased out of Nick. “You ate, like, six pieces. Two of which were mine.” He paused, his sage-colored eyes glimmering. “And my biscuit. You also ate my biscuit.”
I did e
at his biscuit. “I was hungry.”
He chuckled as he turned back to the tree. “You want this one?”
“I think it’s perfect with its ‘holly berries.’ ”
Bending down, he easily picked up the long, narrow box. “Look at you, such a quick learner.”
I laughed as he propped the tree up in the cart, and we moved on to the decorations. As we picked out ornaments and a garland, I waited for the pain to return, and was relieved that it didn’t happen again.
We headed toward the front of the store, taking a shortcut through home furnishings, which caused us to walk right through the baby section. My attention wandered over the endless sea of baby stuff.
“You want to look around?” he asked, following my gaze.
My heart flip-flopped. “You okay with that?”
He shot me a weird look. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
I shrugged. “It’s really too soon to even look at any of this stuff.”
“You can get some ideas, though.”
“You have a good point.”
“I always have good points.”
“Aren’t you just a humble-brag.” I started forward, eyeing the changing tables. “Do you really think I need one of these?”
Nick followed with the cart. “Unless you plan on changing the baby on a kitchen counter, I’d say yes.”
I giggled at the image as I brushed my fingers over the white pad. A display of tiny shoes were placed near the table.
“Oh my gosh.” I picked up the pair of little white Mary Janes. Both shoes fit in one hand as I turned to Nick. “Look at this! Look at how small they are.”
He shook his head. “There’s a part of me that can’t even fathom feet that tiny for shoes.”
“I know.” Grinning, I bit down on my lip. “If we have a girl, I’m so buying these shoes.”
“You can buy ten of them if it makes you happy.”
My gaze flew to his and held. The sincerity was right there. I couldn’t look away from it. Words bubbled up to the tip of my tongue and I forced myself to look away. I put the shoes back. From there I roamed to a matching dresser and a rocking chair. There was so much stuff. Car seats. Strollers of various sizes. Rockers. Bouncy chairs. Diaper genies and so many different types of baby bottles.
Standing in the middle of the baby section, I simply gawked at everything. “I think I’m going to have a panic attack,” I told him, only half serious. “I mean, I need to get all this stuff. That’s a lot of stuff. And where am I going to put all of it?”
Nick picked up a package of dishwasher safe bottles. “Correction. We need to get this stuff and we have room. My grandfather’s house is mine. It’s in the will. I had been thinking about selling it once . . . well, you know, and moving into something smaller,” he said, placing the bottles back. He returned to the cart. “But seems smart to keep the house, especially with a baby coming.”
I was staring at him again. “You . . . you’re saying that we—like me and the baby—could move in with you?”
He arched a brow. “No. I was talking about that guy and girl over there picking out strollers.”
I was still staring at him.
“Why wouldn’t you? You’re right. You don’t have the space. I do. It would work perfectly.” He leaned on the cart and picked up my hat, twirling it in his hands. A sly grin curved his lips. “And I like the idea of sharing a bed with you.”
Although I knew his mind was probably happily playing in the gutter right now, I was absolutely floored by his offer. I don’t know why I was surprised. Nick had a house. I had an apartment. He had room. I didn’t. And this was our baby.
Moving in together was a huge step, but having a baby was an even bigger one.
God, we had done things so ass backward, but I didn’t care as I stood there, openly staring at him.
I love you.
I wanted to get those words out. I wanted to scream them at the top of my lungs, but once again, I couldn’t get them past my tongue.
Who knew three little words would be so hard to speak?
Chapter 26
“So when will I get to meet Nick?”
My eyes widened as the subject of my mom’s question swaggered out from my bathroom half dressed. Dark denim jeans hung low, showing off the vee shape of his lower stomach. While I would never ever pass up the chance to appreciate the hotness of his near nakedness, we were going to be late to dinner.
But his bare chest glistened from the shower he took, and I wasn’t convinced that he was wearing any underwear. I bit down on my lip as I eyed the tightly coiled muscles of his abdomen. Desire pooled low in my stomach. My hormones could just be going crazy, but I couldn’t get enough of him.
Nick had to run into the bar late Sunday morning to help move more new equipment into the kitchen. When he showed up at my place, he’d been greasy and sweaty, immediately stating that he needed to get into the shower. Which was a great idea, because we had a group date we were supposed to be at tonight, but I was . . . well, I was going to blame pregnancy hormones.
He had undressed but his shower stalled when I kissed my way down until I was on my knees before him. So the fact that we would be running late was partly my fault.
“Stephanie, honey, are you still there?”
Pushing those thoughts out of my head, I turned around and stared at my dresser. “Yeah, I’m here. Sorry. I was distracted.”
Nick chuckled from behind me.
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t know when you can meet Nick, Mom.” Pausing, I peeked over my shoulder to gauge his reaction. If he looked like he was ready to pass out then that would probably be a bad sign, but he appeared engrossed in pulling the sweater out of the gym bag he’d brought with him. Was he purposely ignoring what I was saying? Or did it not bother him?
“Well, I think you two should figure that out,” Mom insisted, and I fought a grin as I recognized her “mom” voice.
“I can ask him.”
“He’s there?” Mom laughed. “So that’s why you’re distracted.”
“Mom,” I groaned as I twisted around so I faced Nick. “Mom wants to know when she can meet you.”
Nick glanced up as he shook out his sweater. Nice wrinkle removal technique there. “I can’t really head down to Martinsburg right now. Not with my granddad,” he said, and that made sense. “But if she’s coming up here, I’d love to meet her.”
He’d love to meet her. My heart did a little dance in my chest. “He said—”
“I heard him, dear. Please tell him that I totally understand about his grandfather and he’s in my prayers,” Mom replied. “I was thinking about coming around Christmas. How does that sound?”
Nervousness assailed me. Christmas was, like, next week, and although I was thrilled that Nick was cool with meeting my mom, the first parent-slash-my-baby-daddy meeting made me want to hurl. Actually, when I went shopping for Nick last week, looking to get him something small and special for Christmas, I wanted to hurl then, too, because picking something was harder than I’d realized. I ended up settling on a nice, durable watch. It looked pretty in its box, but now I was thinking it was kind of a lame gift, even though he’d said time and time again that he needed to get a watch.
I told Mom around Christmas was okay, and then after a couple more minutes, I got off the phone to face Nick once more.
He was still shirtless.
I arched a brow as I dropped my phone on the bed. “Are you going to go out like that tonight?”
A cocky grin appeared. “I would, but then you’d be too ‘distracted’ to eat.”
“Shut up.”
Chuckling, he walked over and took my hand. He sat down on the edge of the bed and tugged me down so I was sitting in his lap. “Nick, we need to get going,” I protested. “If we don’t, we’re going to be late.”
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“We’re not going to be late.” He curled an arm around my hips. “We have time. And we need time.” His other hand landed on my lower stomach. “How are you feeling? Are you still feeling pretty tired?”
After putting up the Christmas tree, I’d gotten hit pretty hard with exhaustion for about three days straight, and it had been intermittent since. According to the baby sites and my check-in with the OB/GYN, per Nick’s insistence, it was fairly normal. “I’m feeling fine today. Isn’t that obvious?” I teased, toying with the button on his jeans.
He grinned. “I’m pretty sure you could be halfway to a coma and still be horny as hell.”
I laughed. “I’m not going to even try to deny that.”
The smile slipped a little. “But seriously, I’m just worried. You were so tired last week, and you said you weren’t feeling that great.”
“Thank you for being concerned, but I am feeling fine,” I insisted. “And if it makes you feel better, I have my next appointment Friday.”
“I know.” His lashes lowered to where his hand rested on my pillow. “I can’t believe you haven’t gained any weight yet.”
I placed my hand over his. “Oh, I’ve gained weight. Trust me.”
A look of doubt crossed his face as his fingers curled, gathering the hem of my shirt into his fist. He tugged it up, revealing my stomach. “I’m going to start feeding you Whoppers every day.”
I laughed, but truthfully, I was also a little surprised by how flat my stomach still was. It had started to curve a little, but I guessed that was just bloat. My hips and ass were probably a different story. I’d looked at pictures of women who were in their thirteenth week. It wasn’t obvious they were pregnant, but there was definitely a small bump.
I didn’t have a small bump.
“Maybe I’ll be like some women who get a bump when they’re further along and not before then?”