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“I don’t know, Duncan. It seemed really sudden to me.”
“You don’t like her?”
“I didn’t say that. She’s a wonderful person, and if she’s the one you truly love and want to spend your life with then I’m happy for you.”
“Well, she is. Why else would I have proposed?”
She eyed him. “I don’t know. Why else would you?”
“What exactly are you trying to say?”
“I’m not saying anything. I just want you to be sure.”
“I am sure.” He stood and looked down at her. “I’m going to say goodnight to everyone and head home.”
“Don’t be mad at me.”
“I’m not … it’s just been a long day.”
Shannon nodded. “I understand.”
“I’ll talk to you later.”
“Okay.”
“Night.” He walked across the lawn. Conversations with Shannon usually made him feel better, but he was more confused than before. Maybe his relationship with Dréa had been fast, but his reasons for wanting to marry her were sincere. What was Shannon getting at?
He thought about the first time he met Dréa. The instant attraction—not only to her beauty, but to her personality. And it wasn’t long before he saw how much she loved Jesus too. She was what he’d been waiting for his whole life.
His mind returned to Jamie sitting beside him on the couch at her apartment, leaning closer, their lips about to touch. The complete adoration in her eyes had drawn him in. He’d been powerless against it and had absorbed every look she’d given him all night long.
He tried to remember the look in Dréa’s eyes the first time he’d kissed her, but he couldn’t. Their kiss had given him butterflies, but it hadn’t consumed him the way kissing Jamie had.
And now he felt despicable, comparing the two women like this. What was wrong with him? He really needed a good night’s sleep, and hopefully, when he woke, he’d see things more clearly.
Chapter 19
Jamie lay on the couch in her living room, staring up at the spinning ceiling fan, as her hand rubbed over her nearly imperceptible baby bump. The apartment had been closed up for the three weeks she’d been at her parents’, and the small air conditioner in her bedroom window hadn’t managed to lower the temperature in the stuffy space very much since she’d arrived home.
She didn’t mind sleeping on the couch. It had been her bed many nights when she needed to escape the memory of Duncan in her room. There was no way she could escape that memory, though. Not now. Not ever. Their child would be a constant reminder of what they’d shared.
A tear slid from the corner of her eye and over her temple, wetting her hair.
Duncan had been understandably shocked. But even though she’d dropped a huge bombshell on him and his future, he’d been sweet and comforting. His hug had surprised her at first, and she’d fought hard to keep from sobbing into his chest, but she let him hold her, and she held onto him because it was exactly what she needed. And she had left with a good feeling about the situation.
Three soft knocks on her door sent a nervous chill through her. She glanced over at the clock, which read twenty after one in the morning, and tiptoed toward the window, slowly moving the edge of the curtain back to see who it was.
Her brow furrowed, and she unlocked the door. “Duncan? What are you doing here?”
He looked completely defeated. “I couldn’t sleep.”
She gave him a little closed-mouth smile. “Me neither.”
“Can I come in?”
She stepped to the side, and he walked past, leaving her in the wake of his musky cologne and campfire scent. He went instantly to her couch.
The scene of the crime. Well, that’s where it had all started.