The Sweet Talker (Boston Hawks Hockey #1) - Gina Azzi Page 0,65
and onto the street toward Indy’s place. From my peripheral vision, I notice Indy studying me but when I glance over at her, she snaps her head to the passenger window.
She’s freaking out. That’s normal, isn’t it? To be rattled by the news that you’re about to have a baby. An unplanned baby with a partner you’re not even dating.
My grip tightens on the steering wheel and my molars click together. Damn it. Why the hell am I not freaking the fuck out?
Sure, I’m surprised. Shocked really. But not upset. Not rattled.
A baby. I’m going to be a father. The thought makes me grin before an image of my own dad pops into my head. I’ll be nothing like him. Have I been drinking too much lately?
Oh man, I gotta call East. I bet he’ll be over the moon at the news. A little dude to teach hockey to…
Wait, what if it’s a girl. Well, she can play hockey too. Man, a little girl with Indy’s eyes and smile.
This changes everything. Absolutely everything.
Indy and I are going to be parents. Sure, none of this is happening in the order I thought it would but it’s happening. And I’ve always wanted kids. A whole houseful of them.
I shoot a quick glance at Indy. She’s going to be an incredible mother. Everything my mom wasn’t. God, our baby is already so damn lucky.
I pull into a plaza and stop in front of a sandwich and salad shop.
“What are you feeling? Do you have any cravings?” I ask.
Her mouth pulls tight as her eyes narrow at me. She shakes her head. “I’ll just take…a soup.”
“A soup? C’mon babe, you need more than that.”
She flinches at the endearment and lets out a shaky breath. “Soup and sandwich. Not meat. Oh my God.” She smacks her forehead and I frown. “I can’t have lunch meat.”
“What? Why?” I lean toward her.
“It could have a bacteria in it. Listeria. It could harm the baby. And no soft cheeses either, like the unpasteurized ones. I’m not supposed to sleep on my stomach anymore. How am I going to manage that when I turn in my sleep?” She raises her eyebrows at me, her eyes glossing over. “No exercising for the next two months, which I’m sure will be awesome with helping to manage my weight gain.” Her nose wrinkles and she snaps her mouth shut, mashing her lips together. I reach for her hand but she pulls it away. “Just a soup, Noah.”
I hate that she’s stiff and unyielding around me. I can help her. We’re in this together. Doesn’t she understand that? Things are different now. Before, we didn’t want the same things. But now, now we’re having a baby. There will be plenty of time to talk everything through. Right now, I just need to take care of Indy.
Her gaze turns to outside the window again and I open the driver’s side door. “Just a soup,” I agree, leaving the car.
It only takes a few minutes for our order but once I’m back inside the car, the temperature has dropped. A chill exists between Indy and me that was never there before and it pisses me off. I get that she’s scared, overwhelmed, but why won’t she be that way with me? We’re having a baby for crying out loud.
I pull into the parking lot next to Indy’s place and she hops from the car before I even put it in park. Grabbing the takeout, I follow her into her building and up the stairs, swearing when she slips on a step.
She turns around and glares at me. I glare right back.
She’s right. We definitely need to talk.
Indy pushes into her apartment and I follow behind, placing the takeout bag on the kitchen table.
Indy whirls, tapping her foot against the floor, her arms crossed over her chest. I peer at her, trying to gauge the degree of her freak-out that is clearly on the horizon. “Want to eat first?”
Her face crumples and she dips her head.
Automatically, guilt rises in my throat. “Hey, hey,” I say, keeping my voice soft. But when I step toward her, her gaze snaps up and her expression has changed. Hardened. She stares at me with pinched lips and narrowed eyes.
“We need to talk, Noah,” she says the words slowly but her voice doesn’t crack. I can tell she’s trying to keep it all together so I oblige and sit down on the couch, waiting for her to say her piece.