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“I’m proud of you for finding the strength to do that, Cara.”

Her smile goes soft and with more tears swimming in her eyes, she whispers, “I don’t think anyone’s ever been proud of me except for Jimmy and Jenna.”

“I am.” I slide my hands to her cheeks, brushing away her tears as I hold her close to me, letting her see how serious I am. “We both came from shit lives, Cara, but we both had people in our lives who were there for us, and I swear to you, right now, I will make sure our child has the best of everything. I don’t care how hard it is, how much work it takes, how much it costs or how little, our child will have everything we didn’t, including two parents who are always there, who will always love him or her—boy or girl.” I grin at her. She blushes and it’s so damn cute I press my lips to hers softly, slowly, soaking in the taste of her and the feel of her.

I don’t push it farther. I don’t take her like I want to, and when she relaxes in my hold, falls into the kiss, I pull back.

Then we spend more time talking about Irvin and Jimmy, laughing over stories while we finish our breakfast and clean up.

It’s the best morning I’ve ever had in my life, until Cara places the last plate she’s cleaning into the cupboard and turns to me.

“I should get going.”

“What?”

“I’m feeling the best I have in weeks, and I haven’t painted in a while. I’d like to try today.”

Oh. Not exactly like I can stop her.

“Sure. Yeah.” Hell if I wanted her to leave though. I like her here, in my home, us talking about heavy shit without it seeming heavy. No one outside a small circle of people knows about my dyslexia. I hate the assumption I’m stupid that comes with it, but Cara just took it all in stride, it never changing the way she looks at me.

Except that’s not really true either, knowing what I’ve struggled with, it’s like her gaze on me is fiercer, more determined to make something good work with me, and that’s the only reason why I’m so willing to take her home now instead of spend all day with her on the couch, eating whatever she wants and can keep down, resting with a remote in one hand and her body wrapped in my other arm.

She’ll be back.

We can do this.

“Let me show you something first.”

“What?”

“Come on.” I take the towel out of her hand and toss it to the counter. I hold her hand while we walk down the hall into a completely empty room that holds nothing other than a white couch and a drafting table. I come in here sometimes when I want silence to draw tattoo designs, but I haven’t had a real use for the room until now. Now I know exactly what it’d be perfect for.

She inhales a quick breath as we enter, and her gaze immediately goes to the wall of windows that overlook the river. It’s my Hail Mary pass, one last chance to get her to see things my way. “Move in with me and you can paint in here.”

“Tempting,” she says teasingly. By the way her eyes gloss over and the lingering look she gives as I walk her out of the room, I think itistempting her.

I’m totally cool with using all the tools at my disposal to have her stay in my house.

Chapter 15

Cara

It’s a replay of almost three weeks ago as I rush down the street to MadInk. My stomach is rolling, from the MAXandthe nausea that’s been plaguing me all day. I’m nervous, hands sweating, stumbling on the small heels I shouldn’t have even bothered slipping into, but they were the first pair I could find when I made my decision.

It’s been two weeks since Braxton took me home. Two weeks where we’ve had long conversations at night, him occasionally stopping by, bringing me dinner and putting on a television show that I inevitably fall asleep to within ten minutes of it starting. Two weeks where he then wakes me up, and I groggily get ready for bed while he prepares the pull-out sofa. Two weeks where he kisses me tenderly, tells me good night, rests his palm on my stomach and says good night in a way that makes my insides flip and flop in a delicious way as he speaks to our baby. Two weeks where I feel myself falling for him more and more every time we spend time together. He’s been caring and kind. I catch his lingering glances on not only my slowly growing stomach and swollen breasts in a way that isn’t simply protective, yet he hasn’t done anything more than kiss me tenderly and take care of me.

My hormones are off the charts insane on the days I don’t feel like puking every minute of the day, which, in all honesty, has been quite rare. Even with the antinausea meds, I’ve still been puking almost nonstop from the time I wake up to late afternoon, and today, I believe I’ve finally figured out the cause.

The food trucks that are parked from morning to afternoon in the parking lot behind my apartment. I don’t even have the windows open and don’t need to in order to inhale the mixture of chicken and tacos and seafood and beef and the gyros…good Lord, just the thought of the smell of lamb almost sends me careening down the alley outside MadInk.

I push through and settle myself for a brief moment before I pull open the door and enter Braxton’s tattoo parlor.

The bell rings obnoxiously, but this time, I don’t hesitate, walking quickly to where Stella is perched in the same spot she sat the last time I was here.

“Hi, Stella. I’m Cara.”

“Know who you are, sugar.” She snaps her gum while smiling. “Also know when you want to make a mess, you go all out. Took me hours to get the smell out of Braxton’s office last time you were here.”