Again, she shrugged.
“Ice-cream?”
Another shrug.
I couldn’t decide if she was doing this to mess with me or if she really didn’t know what she wanted to do right now.
“Are you going to be this fussy for the next several months if you are in fact pregnant?”
“Okay, that one I know the answer to,” she replied, followed by a definitive nod.
I cupped her cheek, kissed her forehead, and whispered, “I know what to do.”
“What?”
“Go to the antique store.”
Despite the storm of emotion in her eyes, her lips curved into the tiniest smile. “Yes. The antique store.”
• • •
I woke before the sun.
My bedroom was pitch black, and the only sound other than the endless noise in my mind was that of Eva’s slow, easy breathing as she slept soundly beside me.
At least one of us could sleep.
God only knew I’d been tossing and turning all night. Slowly, of course, so that I didn’t disturb Eva. I didn’t need her waking up in the middle of the night and being concerned that I couldn’t sleep.
The only thing that had calmed her down yesterday was spending an entire hour in the antique shop. If Bethan had noticed something was up, she hadn’t mentioned it, and I was grateful for that. Sure, I’d had to sit through a bunch of art-talk that I didn’t understand, and it’d ended up costing me a ton in new books for Eva to leaf through, but at least it’d taken her mind off everything for a while.
She hadn’t spoken about how she was feeling at all. I wished I could read her mind—I felt almost completely helpless in the face of her uncertainty. I wasn’t used to not being able to handle anything or fix any problems.
I was very much the kind of person who grabbed the bull by the horns and sorted things out before it got too ridiculous.
Taking the bull by the horns was how I’d ended up here, except this one had backfired into the ridiculous.
Like my feelings for the woman who was now snoring lightly next to me.
I slowly pushed to sitting and looked down at her. She’d showered right before bed and put her hair in a long plait that was now spread across the bed after it’d been tickling me all night.
My gaze slowly danced over her face.
Eva really was beautiful. The shadows played across her soft features, and her tongue flicked out to wet her soft lips as she rolled over, turning away from me.
I sighed into the darkness and carefully slipped out of the bed. Thankfully, I’d left my jogging bottoms and t-shirt on the chair before I’d gotten into bed, so I was able to grab them and quickly put them on. After unhooking my dressing gown from the back of the door, I left the room as quietly as I could.
There was a slight chill in the air, so I slipped my robe over my shoulders and tied it at the waist, heading for the kitchen. The boiling of the kettle seemed horrifically loud in the silence, and I winced and turned it off before it hit its peak.
I hoped a cup of tea might help me nod off for a while, even if it was on a sofa somewhere.
I made my cup and took it with me on my way to the library. A sliver of light was visible between the door and the frame, and I frowned.
Had someone left the light on?
Bloody hell. This place cost a fortune in electricity as it was. I didn’t need rogue chandeliers lighting the place up like Blackpool bloody Illuminations.
Jesus.
I sounded like my mother.
And my grandmother.
That was a terrifying thought.
I opened the door and paused when I saw Alex sitting at the chess table. He looked up when I stepped inside and grimaced.
“Sorry. I haven’t disturbed anyone, have I?”
I shook my head, pushing the door closed behind me, then raised my mug. “Couldn’t sleep. Looks like we’ve had the same idea.”
He moved a piece on the chess board. “Do you want to play?”
I snorted, taking a seat on the sofa instead. “Against you? I’d rather joust with a medieval king.”
“I’m starting to take this personally. Even Adelaide won’t play me anymore. Boris only does it because he feels bad for me.”
I laughed at the thought of his butler giving in to playing with him. “That’s because you’re too bloody good, mate. Everyone knows they’re going to get their arse kicked. I don’t know why you don’t do the tournaments.”
Alex grunted, moving another piece. “Travel. Time. Work commitments.”
He did have a point.
“What are you doing up, anyway?”
“Same thing you are. Thinking about the fact my fiancée is going to piss on a stick tomorrow morning.” He glanced at the grandfather clock behind me. “This morning. I stand corrected.”
Yes.
Four a.m.
The time for men to evaluate their lives, apparently.