Page 48 of Full Out Fiend
My words are cut off abruptly when she spins out of my hold, grabs as much of her hair as possible, and projectile vomits off the side of the trail.
For fuck’s sake.
Is it wrong of me to think that our kid is already proving to be a cock block? I gather her hair in one hand and use the other to run soothing circles up and down her back.
“You’re okay,” I murmur over and over again as she loses what appears to be every bite of her dinner. When she finally stops throwing up, she looks back at me and cocks one eyebrow in challenge.
Joke’s on her, though. I’m not scared of a little puke, or anything about pregnancy, really. It’s going to take a lot more than morning sickness to convince me we shouldn’t be together.
“I’m not sure I can survive eight more months of my body remembering yours,” she finally jokes, panting and trying to catch her breath. When she straightens and gives me a quick nod, I assume the nausea has passed, and I interlace our fingers again and turn back to the house.
“Come on. Let’s get you back.”
She’s right—the baby and her health are my top priorities right now. But the issue ofusis up there alongside them, and I don’t give up that easily.
Chapter 28
Daphne
IfIfeltfoolishparking on the street and trekking down his driveway when I arrived, I’m mortified to have to retrace my steps now—with Fielding by my side.
He hasn’t said a word, but I can tell by the way he’s fighting back a smirk that he has plenty of thoughts about my selected parking spot.
“You obviously know the code for the gate. Next time, pull all the way up on the left side of the driveway. I don’t want you walking back and forth like this.”
I let him hold my hand—again—because even though I told him there won’t be anus, I can’t help but hope I’m wrong. So much of what I said is true: I can’t imagine trying to navigate this new normal while also trying to do cutesy, new relationship things with him. But it’s not because I don’t want him. I just don’t know how to reconcile the plans I had for my life with reality.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asks again, grazing his thumb over my knuckles. By the time we made it back to his house, my stomach had settled. The fresh air and a full glass of ginger ale from his ridiculous Freestyle machine had me feeling good as new.
He insisted I take home all the leftovers—and that I try to eat a little something before I go to bed. I would have rolled my eyes at his concerned partner act if I didn’t find it so endearing.
“I’m sure. I’ve gotten used to it this week, honestly. And I promise to eat something before I go to bed,” I insist before he can remind me—again.
He opens the door for me when we finally get to my car and holds it open longer than necessary as I fiddle with the seatbelt and get situated. Then he has the audacity to roll down the window before he closes the door, leans into my space, and grips the doorframe for dear life.
He’s stalling.
And for some reason, I’m not annoyed by it.
“I’m going to see you again, right?”
His words disarm me. There’s no version of my future that he isn’t part of. But given how we parted last night, and how noncommittal I was in the woods, it’s fair that he’s worried about what’s next.
“You will. I promise. I’ll even text you when I get home if it makes you feel better.”
He smirks and shakes his head—looking up the road before gazing back at me. When he smiles, my insides flip-flip, and not in a nauseating way. He’s got the best damn smile.
“I would tell you not to patronize me, but I really do want you to text me later.”
He reaches into the car then, gently peeling my left hand off the steering wheel and kissing my palm before placing my hand low on my stomach and releasing it.
“Good night, Daphne.”
He takes three strides back, watching me the entire time. His expression is a mix of apprehension and hope. There, at the top of the driveway, he stands, with the wrought-iron gates closed behind him, peering at me as I put the car in drive.
He lifts his arm in one last wave, but he doesn’t turn back to the house.
I don’t know what comes over me, but I can barely bring myself to pull away. Just as I find the courage togo, I remember something and slam on the brakes.