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After a long pause I drop my hand from his face, already missing the feel of him against my skin.

“Okay, if you don’t need anything, can you direct me towards the maternity books? I can’t seem to find them, and I’d like to do some reading so I don’t feel completely inept about what’s going on.”

A guilty blush heats my cheeks, as I drop my gaze to the wooden countertop in front of me.

“They’re all up in my apartment. I may have commandeered them for research of my own,” I admit sheepishly.

“So, I’m not the only one who needs to do a little studying huh?”

I shrug and any apprehension I may have felt when he first arrived and offered his assistance, drifts away with our easy conversation. Talking to Warren was always easy to do. After six months away it feels like no time has passed at all. His presence is so familiar and comfortable, it’s as if he never left.

But he did leave, and I have to keep reminding myself about that. I can’t let his tattooed sexy-man pheromones overpower my common sense.

“If you want to read them, you can head up to my apartment. They're kind of all over the place so you’ll just have to find them.”

I should probably be worried about him snooping around, but there’s nothing up there he hasn’t already seen or that Iwouldn’t want him to see. All my secrets are concealed on my body.

“Okay. I’ll be back to go get that weird ass cheeseburger you wanted in a little bit. Can’t have the two most important people in my life going hungry now, can I?”

My heart races and I promptly blush again. It’s a strange sensation having his every attention on me. This easy flirting and close proximity that we never had before. I like it, but it also scares me. It scares me because I’m afraid if I get too comfortable it’ll all go away just as easily as before.

Warren disappears upstairs to find the maternity books and doesn’t come back down for an hour. Right about the time my stomach starts growling again.

I’m unceremoniously ushered to Warren’s truck that he must have picked up from Owen, because the last time I saw it, it was parked in his driveway. Warren calls out to Lauren that we’re leaving and doesn’t wait for her reply. He even buckles me in once I’m firmly seated in his truck.

“I can do that myself you know?”

He swats my hands away as I try to take over buckling my own freaking seat belt. If he’s going to be a helicopter parent we’re going to have a serious conversation about boundaries.

“I know, but I want to make sure you’re safe.” The buckle clicks into place, and he reaches up to adjust the strap over my belly, resting his hand there reverently. “You’re important to me, and I want you to know that. Not just because you’re pregnant either.”

His eyes are like lasers locked on mine as he says this. I want to say something back, be snarky and break the tension between us, but I can’t. I don’t want to belittle his feelings and make him feel bad for caring about me. It is, after all, what I’ve wanted all along.

Instead, I just nod and let him finish checking my safety belt before gently closing the passenger side door. He rounds the hood of the truck and slides into the driver’s seat, turning on the heater as soon as he starts the engine. It takes a second for the air to warm but once it does, I relax into the bench seat.

But now I have a whole new set of problems. What are people going to say when we show up to the diner for lunch and Warren’s handling me with kid gloves? Hopefully they’ll just think he’s being a good friend. Us being together isn’t new, everyone knows we’re friends. And until I’m ready to publicly announce him as the father, I’d like it to remain that way.

Chapter 20: Warren

A spam and skittle omelet

When I told Bambi I would be there every day to help her, I don’t think she believed me. Because everyday I show up in the morning at the shop and don’t leave until after she’s eaten a full dinner of whatever strange craving she’s having, she’s still surprised to see me the next day. Like she expects me to disappear without a trace…again.

It's been a week since I returned, and every day I wake up, drive over to her shop in my same old truck, park out back and proceed to do whatever she needs for the day. I think she’s testing me and having fun with telling me what to do. She’s had me clean the shop bathroom, dust every single bookshelf, alphabetize her pantry, and paint her toenails. Though that last one was enjoyable for me as well.

I like touching Bambi, and I’ll take every opportunity I’m given, even if that’s just rubbing her swollen feet and painting her toes neon purple.

Today she attempted to go on deliveries. I wasn’t having that. So, after much persuading, here I am with bags of blue wrapped books on my passenger seat, driving around town, and dodging small talk with nosey townsfolk. I have had to deal with old ladies pinching my cheeks, fisherman ex-coworkers chatting me up about their latest catch and trying to rehire me, and a fewgabby gossips trying to pry everything about my time away from me.

Eventually, I make it through all the deliveries, taking twice as long as I had hoped to. By the time I’ve finished it’s late afternoon and I know Bambi will be getting hungry soon. Deciding to stop to pick something up to make her dinner, I pull into the parking lot of the local grocery store. I have no idea what she’ll be craving tonight, but I also want to surprise her.

Perusing the aisles like a lost puppy, I hope something will jump out at me. Spaghetti, mac-n-cheese, fried chicken, smoked salmon. Nothing sounds right. She’s been favoring pickles lately, so I toss a few jars of those into my basket. Minis, spears, bread and butter just to be safe. Now what?

As I’m staring unfocused at the meat section, I sense a body appear at my side but don’t give it much thought until the person speaks.

“Can’t figure out what to make for dinner?” a familiar voice asks, drawing my attention away from the overpriced steaks.

Gigi looks up at me and grins. My frown smoothing out seeing a friendly face that won’t ask me forty-six million questions and expect me to recite my life’s memoire.