“I wanted to be different for you—I wanted everything to be different for you, and that was before we knew you were pregnant,” he said, his shoulders hunching as he shook his head. “I just didn’t think I was capable of being that person.”
My brows rose. “You are.”
His lashes lowered. “You know, a couple of months ago I wouldn’t have been sure of that statement, and honestly, I didn’t know until you came over for Thanksgiving. Seeing you with my grandfather made me realize how much of an idiot I was, not going after you the moment I left your apartment. And talking to you about what happened to my family, how it’s tied to Calla. Actually saying that shit out loud helped me let it go. I should’ve . . . I should’ve said that to you, because I get why you’d think there was nothing else between us. I do. I should’ve made it clear that there was more I was feeling.”
He pressed his hand to his chest. “I was feeling more for you in here, and it had nothing to do with you being pregnant.”
I almost couldn’t believe what he was saying. “But if I hadn’t gotten pregnant, would we ever have gotten together?”
“I don’t know, honestly I don’t, but I like to think we would’ve found our way to each other.” His gaze flickered to mine. “I want to believe that. I have to.”
I struggled through the ball of emotion that was building again. Hope was there, swelling so beautifully, but it felt tainted with loss and with lingering, thick confusion. My lips trembled and I pressed them together for a moment. “I don’t know. You were wonderful—you have been wonderful. I should’ve known there was more there. I’ve just been so . . . everything has been new to me.”
“Yeah.” His eyes searched mine. “Neither of us are very good at this relationship thing, huh?”
A dry, cracking laugh escaped me. “No. We’re not very good at it.” I lowered my chin. “But we were really good at it when we didn’t even know we were doing it.”
“Damn straight,” he murmured, gently touching my chin. He tipped my head up so our eyes met. “Would you like to be my girlfriend? Circle yes or no.”
Another hoarse laugh rattled as I lifted my finger, drawing a circle on his chest. “That’s me circling yes.”
Nick’s lips twitched into a grin. “Maybe I should’ve asked you that a while ago.”
“Maybe I should’ve asked you.”
His grin faded as he leaned over, pressing his lips to my temple.
“You know what?” I whispered, closing my eyes as I tried to grasp onto that hope and almost immediately felt guilty for doing so. How could I be happy about anything right now? But at the same time how could I not be, now that I knew the man I was in love with wanted to be with me? Even if he hadn’t spoken those three words, what he had told me meant so much.
He curled his arm back around my waist. “What?”
“I wish . . . I wish this hadn’t happened.”
“I know. I wish the same thing.”
I drew in a shallow breath. “It hurts. I can’t believe how much it hurts, and I can’t stop thinking that I . . . I could’ve done something differently.”
“Babe,” he said, kissing my forehead, “don’t let your head go there. Promise me you won’t let your head go there.”
Promising that was harder said than done, but that’s what I did, and he cupped my cheek. “It’s going to be hard. I know it is. For both of us, but you know what?”
“What?”
“We got each other. No matter what. There is a you and me.” Nick lowered his forehead to mine. “And that is all we need right now.”
Chapter 30
When I returned to work on Monday, my body was still going through the motions of the miscarriage, but my luck was twofold. The office was closed on Thursday, Christmas Eve, and didn’t reopen until Monday, and I was able to schedule an appointment to get in and see my OB/GYN on the following Tuesday, snatching up a cancelled appointment.
While I was at work, I didn’t allow myself to think about what my body was going through. I focused on the errands I had to run and the renovation proposal for the recently acquired facility in West Virginia. Perhaps the whole avoiding what had happened routine wasn’t the smartest, but it was what helped get me through each day, and I think that it was important to take it day by day.
But I wasn’t alone.
On Sunday, I had packed some clothes and personal items and followed Nick back to his grandfather’s house. When he asked me to come home with him, I hadn’t hesitated. Sunday night we had spent time with his grandfather and then I’d fallen asleep in his arms. His presence and his understanding of the pain kept the worst moments—the ones where guilt and doubt started to creep up—from overwhelming me. Waking up with him wrapped around me went a long way, probably more than he realized.
Then again, I think Nick did know. I think that was why he insisted I stay with him until my mom whirled into town for Christmas. He was there in those moments when I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn’t fall back to sleep. Those moments when the heavy malaise twisted in discontent. I knew my body was going through a lot and it had my mood swinging all over the place, but it was also just . . . just hard as hell to deal with.
Part of me felt like I needed to spring back immediately. To move the hell along, because these things happened. They happened every day, and I was lucky that there hadn’t been any major complications so far, like an infection, or that I hadn’t been further along. In those dark moments in the middle of the night, it was hard to give voice to what I was feeling exactly, but I didn’t have to.