“I like the yellow.”
“You don’t necessarily have to sleep in here.” I rub my bottom lip and look at him out of the corner of my eye. Way to make things awkward. “Unless you’d prefer to.”
Jake’s gaze moves slowly from the bed to me. There’s heat in it, but softness, too. “Do you have a preference?”
“My hormones have a preference.” I rub the bridge of my nose.
“I see how it is. You just want to ride this ride.” He motions to himself, grinning.
I bite my lips together. He’s not wrong, but he’s not right either. “I’ve missed you,” I admit.
“I’ve missed you, too.” He takes a few steps toward me, close enough that I can smell his cologne. He dips his head, wearing a smirk. “And I think this probably warrants a discussion, which we should probably have before we make a final decision on where I should be sleeping tonight.”
“Okay.” I exhale an unsteady breath. In the past, whenever we saw each other, the first thing we’d do was get naked. It was always a flurry of clothing removal, roaming hands, and battling tongues. Half the time we didn’t make it to the bedroom. Sometimes we didn’t even make it past his front entryway. And then I put an end to it. Except now I’m trying to un-end it. And I’m pregnant. It’s a lot. And he’s right. We definitely need to have a conversation. I wish I had an inkling as to how he feels, so I don’t go embarrassing myself.
I motion to the door beyond the bed. “There’s an attached bath through there. I’ll let you get settled and I’ll meet you in the living room in a few?”
“Sounds good.”
I leave him in the spare room and rush down the hall to my own. My plan is to have a quick shower, but once I get started, I end up washing my hair.
And then I make the stupid decision to check my phone. The messages from the Seattle Girls are blowing up. There are two group chats: one with all the girls, including Queenie, and one without—we set up that one when we were working on a surprise group gift and her wedding shower. The most recent messages are in the group that doesn’t contain Queenie.
Violet: Girl, you have some explaining to do. I just finished extorting information out of my husband (you don’t want to know how) and I have it on good authority that JAKE IS IN TENNESSEE RIGHT NOW.
Lainey: *wide eyes* OMGee. You and Jake?
Stevie: Bishop said he caught you two making out.
Stevie: Wait. He said he caught you fixing Jake’s hair. Not the same.
Violet: IS THE BABY JAKE’S????
There are surprise emojis and a range of mind-blown gifs, along with a picture of Bishop frowning and holding a sign that reads I KNEW IT.
I send one message in response:
The baby is Jake’s. He’s here with me now. Queenie and Ryan know, but can we keep this on the DL, please? I promise we will have a video chat in a couple of days.
I leave my phone in my room and find Jake in the living room. He, too, looks freshly showered based on his damp hair and change of clothes.
I offer him something to drink, and even though I picked up the scotch he likes, he declines and opts for ginger ale, which happens to be what I’m drinking.
There are several boxes sitting on the coffee table.
“As you can see, Queenie got click-happy.” One corner of his mouth quirks up and his cheeks flush. “She tried to send me with more, but I told her she should hold on to them for a bit.” He hands me the first box.
By the time I’m done unwrapping, I have several new cute shirts with sayings like Momster in the making and Mama to be and carrying precious cargo. I pull my current shirt over my head—I’m wearing a tank underneath—and replace it with one of the new shirts that reads ICE ICE with an arrow pointing down. It’s a couple of sizes too big at the moment, but in a few months, it’ll fit perfectly.
“This was really sweet of her.”
“Do you mind if I take a picture and send it to her?”
“Not at all.” I hop to my feet and pose for a picture, which he sends to Queenie before I take my seat on the couch again.
Thirty seconds later, he gets several messages from Queenie in return, full of heart-eye gifs.
“It’s sweet that she’s excited.”
“She tends to look at the positive side of things.” He taps the armrest and gives me a chagrinned smile. “She’s been very clear that she’s Team Jake and Hanna. And I apologize if that’s been . . . awkward at all for you.”
“I feel like that’s the word of the year for us.” I prop my cheek on my fist. “And it’s not awkward. I mean, I think we can agree that this whole thing is pretty weird as a whole. But it’s also very different from my other experiences.”