One Moment Please: A Surprise Pregnancy Standalone (Wait With Me #3) - Amy Daws Page 0,52
for her to crawl under the sheets. She does, and I roll onto my side to face her. “If I fall asleep, you’re not going to abandon ship again, are you?”
She turns on her side to face me, a sleepy smile spreading across her post-coital face. “Not unless your mom calls again.”
I huff out an incredulous noise. “She was very confused by the strange woman who claimed to be my cleaning lady.”
She presses her face into the pillow and groans. “I sounded like a raving lunatic. I was so out of it that I didn’t even realize it wasn’t my phone.” She pulls her lip into her mouth and chews it nervously. “Have you told them about the peanut?”
I shake my head. “No.”
She nods. “I haven’t told my parents either. I guess I want to feel more secure in our situation before I bring in outside feelings. And believe me, my parents will have lots of feelings.”
I nod and expel a yawn before replying, “We’ll figure it all out after you move in.”
Her face falls. “Move in?”
“Yeah,” I reply with a shrug. “Move in. What’s the question?”
“You think because we slept together tonight that I should just move in with you?”
“Kind of, yeah,” I reply honestly.
Her brow furrows as she scrambles to sit up in the bed. She sits crisscross to face me and clutches the sheet to her chest. “Did you sleep with me to get me to move in with you?”
“What? No.” I don’t think?
“Then why does having sex change anything?”
My jaw clenches with frustration as I sit up and prop myself on the headboard. “We’ve been spending time together so we’re not strangers anymore. And I’ve been clear from day one that I want to take care of you. You’re my responsibility.”
“Ew…call me your responsibility one more time, and I will bolt before you can even get your fucking pants on.”
She physically recoils from me, and my face falls. “Jesus, what is your problem?”
“My problem is the way you talk about me like I’m some sort of problem you need to fix.”
“That’s not true.”
“It’s what it feels like.” She glowers at me with so much frustration that panic starts to settle in the pit of my stomach. “Josh, I don’t want to move in here just because you feel some sort of obligation. I’m not that desperate.”
“It’s not about you being desperate.” I jam a hand through my hair, ruffling it for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh. There’s no way for me to get her to understand without giving her more. The problem is, I don’t have the ability to give her the full story. I just…can’t. “Look, Jones, I can’t explain it, but I have this strong, yes, most likely irrational fear of something happening to you or the baby. I know it sounds fucked up, but it’s real. It’s weighed heavily on me since the moment I found out you were pregnant.”
Lynsey goes quiet for a long moment, her face thoughtful as she stares back at me. “That sounds like something you should talk to a therapist about.”
“I thought you were a therapist,” I reply, my tone flat.
She levels me with a glare. “So, do you want to expand on why you think something could happen to me or the baby?”
“No,” I retort, the muscles in my body tensing. “I don’t want to talk about it. I just want you to know that it stresses me the fuck out not to have you here. Not to know how you’re feeling every day. To be limited to…fucking hanging out occasionally. I need to know you’re okay.”
“Josh,” she says my name softly and reaches out to touch me, but I pull away.
“I don’t need psychoanalyzing or empathy or even complete understanding. I just need you to live here.” I swallow the knot in my throat and press my hand to my chest when that familiar ache returns. “Would it be that bad to live here and cohabitate? Doesn’t it seem like what’s best for the baby?”
She’s watching me, but I can’t bring myself to return her look. I’m too…exposed and stupid. And really fucking out of control, which is not a sensation I relish. In fact, it’s one I live my life trying to avoid.
“Okay,” she says softly, her voice barely audible.
My eyes snap to hers. “Okay?”
She nods. “I’ll move in.”
I move toward her, ready and raring for a gentle round two, but she puts her hand to my chest. “But I have conditions.”