Wrapped Up in You - Talia Hibbert Page 0,42

Abbie reported, while Will gathered more blankets and dragged a few cushions off the sofa. There might be weird afterbirth stains, but she was pretty confident Grandma wouldn’t mind. “She seemed really tired and cold outside, but she’s licking the first one now, and the second one’s feeding, so that’s a good sign, right?”

“Yes,” Grandma agreed. “Well done. We’re heading back.”

Abbie felt a bit glowy about that “Well done.” Maybe listening to Chitra talk about pool births and placentas for months had made her ready for anything, or maybe her own habit of imagining worst-case scenarios had done that. Whatever the case, she was glad she hadn’t fucked up Gravy’s babies.

Putting the phone down, she relayed the message to Will. He nodded, peeled off his gloves, and reached for her. “So…” he said. One of his hands slid beneath the coat she still hadn’t taken off, settling at her hip with a possessiveness she shouldn’t enjoy so much. His other hand rose to her hair, tugging gently at a coil behind her ear. “Are we going to say anything?”

And Abbie learned another thing she hadn’t known about herself: she liked being with a man who asked instead of told. She liked it a whole fucking lot.

* * *

Were they going to tell her family, that was what Will meant. He was only asking for clarity, though, not because he needed to share. Will didn’t need anything right now except what he had: Abbie, looking at him with all the secret affection her dark eyes could convey, loving him silently in a way that was so fucking loud, it reverberated through his bones.

He was on cloud nine, and he expected to stay there for the rest of his life. So, yeah, he didn’t need a damn thing. But after years of this hollow, hungry yearning, and a couple days of fucking things up by holding back, he’d decided that straightforward communication was his very best shot at keeping hold of this miracle.

And he would keep hold of this. Of her. Gently, yes, as gently as she needed, but he wasn’t ever letting go.

She rolled her lips inward, looking adorably awkward at the prospect of talking about their feelings yet again—and to people other than each other. But he was impressed, because instead of blurting out God, no, with all the horror she obviously felt, Abbie took a breath and managed a smile. “I could be wrong, but I think Grandma’s kind of been shipping us. She really shoved us together these last two days.”

Well, shit. That was … that was true, wasn’t it? Will grinned. “Always knew she was a woman of taste.”

“And Jase basically thinks we should get married.”

Will grinned wider. “He is my best friend for a reason.”

He could see Abbie’s apprehension at that—she probably hadn’t expected him to respond so enthusiastically, or so seriously. He released her hair and stroked her face, his fingertips gliding over her brow, her temple, along the line of her jaw. Everywhere he touched, tension seemed to ease out of her. “I’m just asking, Abbie,” he said softly. “I’m asking what you want to do because I care about the answer. I care about what you want.” It had occurred to him recently, that he should tell her things like that—should say what seemed so obvious to him out loud. Because it wasn’t obvious to Abigail, and if he didn’t show her his heart, how the fuck was she supposed to learn it? He wasn’t leaving her in the dark anymore, to stumble around with nothing but her hopes and her fears.

Not ever.

She gave a tentative smile, and his heart squeezed at the sight. “Okay. Well … I think they’d be pleased, but I also think that talking about … about our feelings for each other was a lot, and we don’t exactly know what this is going to look like, or at least I don’t, and—”

“One year,” he said softly.

She blinked. “Hm?”

“That’s how long I was going to wait,” he reminded her, “before I asked you out. One year of being with you however you wanted before I ever brought up my feelings. I might’ve failed on the feelings part, but we can still wait a year, if you want.”

Her lips parted for a breathless moment, and she leaned into him, just a tiny bit. Just enough for him to feel the warmth of her fledging trust, chasing away the blizzard’s chill. “You’re rather dedicated,” she said dryly, but she looked at