himself hold her in an easy, relaxed embrace, his chin resting atop her head as she breathed out so slowly and deeply that he knew she’d needed it.
How do you feel about underwear hugging?
Her question from months before swam back to him, bringing a grin with it. There was something about her that felt great in his arms. Maybe it was her perfect height compared to his, and the way his chin rested on her forehead when she tucked in close, and how he could feel the fan of her eyelashes on the side of his neck. Maybe it was the combination of her slender, feminine frame and the strength he felt in it, or the mop of soft, wavy hair and how, when even slightly ruffled, her delicate scent drifted out, calling to something in his chest.
He just knew he liked it. He liked it enough to force his way through the rest of the questions and worries he’d had all day. Start the conversation. Get it going. Keep things calm. That had been his mistake earlier when she’d grown frustrated and pelted him with a pregnancy test.
“Are you all right?”
“Are you all right?” she answered, without moving an inch, but alarm bells sounded in his head. Health conversations always set her off, even if this was entirely a health concern.
“You felt bad earlier.” He squeezed her a little tighter as he spoke, a tool he’d never had the opportunity to use to calm down these conversations in the past, so who knew how well it’d work?
“I was shocked. Sort of. I didn’t feel sick, I just felt, I don’t know, unsettled? Kind of nervous?”
He simply nodded, still trying so hard to take it slowly. Not to rush ahead, not to demand answers, not to drag her off to the court house or frog march her to the altar.
So, today’s symptoms weren’t directly related to her pregnancy, not in a physical illness way. That was something. Her pale shakiness was shock. Okay.
Now for the question he’d been dreading. A sinking, hollow feeling in his stomach made him want to hold tighter, so he forced himself to relax his hold on her and lean back so she’d look up at him.
“Are you going to have it? I need to know what you’re intending.”
As soon as the words came out, she stepped back from him, fully back until no longer in arm’s reach, her own arms drawing up like even her appendages couldn’t be within his orbit.
He knew her well enough to know that she’d respond best to calm discussion, even if he could feel his hackles rising. He didn’t want a repeat of their earlier confrontation.
Her eyebrows came together, her eyes went wider, pupils dilating to the point the black overwhelmed the usual vibrant blue. Mouth open, breathing faster... Fear. Fear responses. What did that mean?
Tension stole across his shoulders as well, but the emotional landmine between them sat there, both of them frozen, as if even a wrong flick of the eyes could set it off.
Was she afraid of his reaction when she answered, any reaction, or was there a reason to be afraid if she responded?
“Penny?”
“What do you want me to say? I don’t know what answer you’re looking for.” She swallowed and her gaze skirted downward, but unfocused, as if searching her own mind for answers. Until the fuzziness lifted, and she focused on his hip.
He followed her gaze to his right front pocket, and the outline of the test there. Maybe it would get her moving again. Ducking his hand in, he withdrew the plastic wand and held it out to her. “I want you to tell me the truth. We made a life, I deserve to know whether or not it gets to come into this world.”
Penny felt her throat close as he produced the test, and offered it to her. But it was his words that brought tears. “You want it? You’re not trying to tell me you...?”
“I want it. God, of course I want it.”
The rasp in his voice echoed the truth she saw in his deep brown eyes. There was even a reverence in the way he held the test out to her she hadn’t noticed before. It didn’t simply lie on his palm, his fingers curled loosely around it, he cradled it—this nothing piece of plastic.
Whatever else happened, she could count on that. He already loved this child, or at least the idea of it.
She laid her hand over the test and curled her fingers over his hand, then kept right on going until she’d folded her arm back and dragged his around her waist. Her other arm up over his shoulders, she pulled back into the hug she’d escaped when his words had curdled her insides.
“I thought I’d bungled it all up. That you were going to shout about it, or just...not, you know, because...we weren’t...”
Words refused to come into any kind of order, but the feel of his other arm around her waist helped. Made it better. Even after all the torturous hours she’d spent this afternoon practicing the words to use for the Get Out of Jail Free speech she’d been planning to offer. And which she should still give him, even if she was in no way ready to jump into that conversation with both feet when just the merest whiff of discord had almost made her lose her lunch on him moments ago.
“You know, this is all your fault,” she half teased instead, but kept her voice light so he’d know she was mostly teasing. “If you hadn’t had that rule about not mentioning anything, I could’ve given you some warning. Like, ‘Hey, things are amiss in Uterus Land.’ That’s part of what I felt so guilty about. I had a little time to work up to taking the test, but you’ve only had, like...eight hours to get used to this.”
“I’m not used to it yet.”
“Me either.”
“But you want it.” He needed to hear it again, and that was okay. That was something easy she could give him.
“I want the baby.” She confirmed that part easily enough, but a little rueful chuckle followed. “I don’t want to be pregnant. At all. I’m trying not to freak out about that part, but I want this child. Really.”
The hug started to go past the point where it was probably getting weird for him so, no matter how good he felt, she still felt compelled to try and be sensible. A quick kiss to his cheek, and she stepped back again, snagging the test as she retreated to the sofa to sit.
“Because of work?” he asked, following the conversation, as well as her, to the sofa.
Because it seems too much like sickness.
“Because it seems very restrictive,” she said instead, and found herself again looking at the test she’d had so much difficulty looking at earlier. “And uncomfortable. I guess. Plus, there’s...you know, figuring things out. I don’t even know how to start that conversation, like—”
“We should get married.”
He said the words so quickly she had to mentally replay his words to even understand what he’d said. Then came a giggle, which promptly turned to real laughter at the absurdity of the idea. He was playing with her! Joking around! Everything was going to be all right.
“Right? Like that! Because, you know, people are going to ask. I don’t know why, but they will. Things at work, I guess that could be weird for you with all the Davenports underfoot. But we should try to be sensible, right? Like—”
“We should get married.”
The second time he said it, her laughter was more a confused burst of air. When she looked at him, it stopped cold.
No matter how serious he tended to be, his expression was usually relaxed. At least as long as people were listening to him, and obeying, that was the other one. He was great at his job because the man had a massive brain and cared about people, but also because he projected an aura of confidence and subtle dominance, so people usually did what he said. Except her when she disagreed with him. And sometimes just because she liked to mess with him. Briefly. Playfully.
Which she definitely didn’t want to do right now. His narrowed eyes and tilted