About That Night (30 page)

He stopped, just...slammed to a stop at the top of the stairs. “What?”

She nodded, looking thrilled and slightly ill at the same time. “It was right after you left. It was this rolling sensation. Like he was doing a somersault. Here.” She took his hand and laid it against the soft swell of her stomach but C.J. didn’t feel any movement. “It was wonderful and scary and just made me realize how...real...this all is. We’re having a baby.” She looked up, smiled into his eyes. “I’m terrified and excited and I just... I wanted to tell you.”

She’d come to him so he could be included in this moment. So they could share it.

Like a real couple. A real family.

His fingers curled against her stomach and he leaned down to kiss her. “Thank you.”

She returned his kiss but then stepped back. Shrugged as if it was no big deal and cleared her throat. “You’d better get going. You don’t want to miss your flight.”

He bit back a sigh. He was coming to understand her more and more. When he got too close, or when things got too personal between them, she took those steps—figuratively or literally—to maintain control.

To guard her heart.

It was annoying as hell.

But he had to be patient. He wouldn’t let his frustration get the best of him again. If he wanted Ivy—in his life and in his bed—he had to be patient.

Even if it killed him.

Besides, he really did have a plane to catch.

“We’ll have to celebrate next weekend,” he said.

“We can’t pop champagne for every pregnancy milestone.”

“You’re right. We’ll switch to sparkling cider.”

“That’s not what I meant. Not every little thing needs a celebration. Look, this kid is going to have enough to deal with just being a Bartasavich. He or she doesn’t need the ego boost of you throwing a parade just for a new tooth or learning to walk.”

He nodded solemnly. “Good point. We’ll hold off on the parade until he or she is toilet trained.”

“Ha-ha. Oh, how I hope the baby has your razor-sharp wit.”

C.J. took her hand, started down the stairs, liking how her palm felt against his. “If he doesn’t, we’ll buy him a sense of humor.”

She laughed. Squeezed his hand. “You rich people and your snooty specialty stores.”

They reached the foyer, but instead of letting her go, he raised their joined hands to his lips and placed a warm kiss on her knuckles. “Have dinner with me next weekend.”

“I can’t. I’m working. Friday at King’s Crossing and Saturday at O’Riley’s.”

But for the first time, she actually seemed disappointed to turn him down.

Progress. Slow and steady, but still progress.

Maybe there was something to this patience thing.

“How about lunch on Saturday?” he asked, wanting to push for more of her time but holding back.

“We have a bridal shower scheduled here Saturday so I’ll be working that. I’ll have a few hours free on Sunday but by the time I get up, it’ll be late morning. You shouldn’t even bother coming. It’s stupid for you to fly all this way to spend three or four hours with me.”

“Stupid or not, I’ll be here Friday night.” He already had his flight booked.

She tugged free. “It’s a waste of time.”

“It’s my time. And being with you is never a waste of it.”

Before she could argue—which he knew damned well she was gearing up to do—he crushed his mouth to hers. He kissed her hungrily, wrapped his free arm around her to pull her close. She clung to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders, her breasts pressed against his torso.

By the time he tore his mouth from hers, they were both breathing hard and he was aching for her.

She licked her bottom lip and he couldn’t stop himself from kissing her again. “Think of me,” he whispered against her mouth. A demand. A plea.

He stepped out into the warm summer evening. And wondered if it was ever going to get easier to let her go.

* * *

T
HE BACK OF
Gracie’s neck tingled, like her very own Spidey sense warning her that trouble was nearby.

Her fingers tightening on the toilet brush, she turned her head toward the bathroom door only to find Luke there watching her.

Obviously her sixth sense was defective. If it had been working properly, she would have known he was close by and could have slipped away before he’d trapped her in the Yellow Room’s bathroom.

“Gracie,” he said, then cleared his throat. Shoved his hands into his pockets. “Can we talk?”

“I’m sort of busy right now.” Okay, so maybe she didn’t have to sound that bitchy, but she’d managed to avoid him for the past few days—mainly because she hadn’t been scheduled to work—and she didn’t want that streak to end.

Plus, she really didn’t want to chat with him while she scrubbed a toilet. She did have some pride.

“I can wait until you’re done,” he said, but not in a patient way. He was more like...determined. And when she glanced at him, she easily recognized the stubborn “I’m not going anywhere and you can’t make me” look on his face.

Lord knew she’d seen that exact same expression on her brothers’ faces often enough.

“Fine,” she said, setting the toilet brush in the caddy along with the other cleaning supplies. She straightened, pulled off her rubber gloves and tossed them down before crossing her arms. “What shall we talk about?”

He frowned as if trying to figure out if she was serious. “We could start with you telling me why you’re so pissed at me.”

“Who says I’m pissed?”

He sent her a
duh
look. “You left me at the coffee shop and you haven’t returned any of my texts or phone calls for four days.” He edged closer, and the bathroom seemed to shrink. “Just...tell me what I did,” he said quietly, “so I can fix this.”

Seriously? How could he not know? “How’s Kennedy?”

He opened his mouth. Shut it and shook his head. “I wouldn’t know.”

“So you two aren’t back together?”

“No.”

Gracie released the breath she’d been holding. “Oh. Well, don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll work things out soon.”

She tried to go around him but he shifted, blocking her escape. “I don’t want to get back together with her. Wait. Is that what this is about? You think I’m still into Kennedy? Are you...are you jealous?”

“Of course not,” Gracie said quickly. She’d meant to sound adamant. Instead she’d come across as desperate.

And dishonest.

She’d never, not once, been envious of another girl. Had always believed everyone was special in their own way and the only way to happiness was to be true to yourself.

She knew perfectly well who she was. A cute girl with a unique sense of style, wild hair and a quick, inquisitive mind. Not a bad combination, all in all.

But at the coffee shop, standing next to Kennedy she’d felt...inferior. As if she was somehow lacking.

And though she knew it wasn’t fair, she blamed Luke.

“Then what is it?” Luke asked, clearly frustrated. “What did I do?”

You kissed me, then told your ex-girlfriend we were just friends. You made me like you, made me think you were different.

“You used me,” she told him, linking her hands together.

“What?”

“You. Used. Me. You knew Kennedy worked at the coffee shop, so you brought me there to...I don’t know...upset her. Get under her skin.” No way would Gracie believe he’d thought seeing them together would make Kennedy jealous. “Or at least so you could
accidentally
run into her.”

“I didn’t. I swear. I didn’t even know she worked there. I took you there because I thought maybe if we were somewhere public, it would be easier to, you know, talk about what happened at my sister’s, talk about our...our friendship, if there were other people around.”

He sounded so sincere.
His gaze was earnest and a blush climbed his cheeks. She wanted to believe him but was afraid to. “Even if that’s true, it doesn’t matter. As soon as you saw Kennedy, it was like a switch flipped and you became someone else. Then you went completely overboard about my mixed-up coffee order and it was so obvious you still have feelings for her and I was just...”
Hurt. Alone, yet again.
“...caught in the middle.” Gracie lifted her chin. “I didn’t like being put in that position so I left.”

“I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable. Can you forgive me?”

It scared her how much she wanted to. But she still had some pride. Not as much as she should, perhaps, but enough to protect herself. “It doesn’t matter.”

He stepped closer, his voice low. “It matters to me.”

She sighed. Looked as if that little bit of pride wasn’t going to be enough after all. She nodded. “I forgive you.”

He grinned, his shoulders relaxing. “Thank you. Hey, are you busy after work? We could get a bite to eat. Somewhere far away from the coffee shop.”

She turned and picked up the tub cleaner. “I can’t. Conner has a T-ball game tonight.”

“Oh. Well, I could go with you and we could do something after.”

She tapped the cleaner against her thigh. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

Because she didn’t want to be his friend. Couldn’t go on pretending she thought of him as a buddy. It was too hard. Too confusing. She knew how this scenario would play out. He’d eventually go out with some other girl or get back with Kennedy, leaving Gracie feeling like a fool for hoping he’d fall for her.

For waiting for him.

“I don’t think we should hang out anymore,” she said, almost wishing she was the type of person who could lie easily and well.

His eyes narrowed. “I said I was sorry, Gracie.”

“That has nothing to do with—”

“Is this some game? Because I had enough of those with Kennedy.”

“This isn’t a game.” She was proud of how calm she sounded. How mature. “I’ve just realized that it’s not in my best interest to be your friend.”

“Look, I screwed up,” he said. “It won’t happen again.”

“It’s not that. It’s everything. We’re too different.” Hadn’t she known that from the beginning? She should have listened to her instincts. “And you’re going through a lot of...stuff right now...with the breakup and everything—”

“Which is exactly why I could use a good friend,” he said taking her hand.

With tears clogging her throat, she tugged herself free. “I understand that. I do. But I...I just can’t be that person for you. I’m sorry.”

He studied her, his mouth flat, his gaze hooded. Then he shook his head. “Whatever.” He turned and walked away but stopped in the hall, his voice soft. “I thought you were different.”

She wanted to call him back. To explain all her doubts and fears. But in order to do that, she’d have to tell him her doubts. Her fears. She’d have to lay her soul bare and tell him how she really felt.

And she wasn’t brave enough to do that. Not after what Andrew had done to her.

Maybe not ever again.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

S
O FAR, SO GOOD.

It had been over three weeks since the weekend Ivy had asked Clinton to help her with the crib and told him about feeling the baby move. He came to Shady Grove every Friday night, stayed until Sunday evening. And while it was impossible to spend every moment together—she did have to work—they managed to have plenty of time together. More, certainly, than she’d ever spent with any other man.

And still, she never got tired of him. Always looked forward to seeing him again. To talking to him every night when he was in Houston. Getting to know each other while living in two different states took a hell of a lot of effort, but it had been worth it. She hadn’t thought it possible, given the initial mistrust between her and Clinton, but things were now going well. Really, really well.

And they hadn’t even slept together again.

Wiping down the kitchen counters at Bradford House, Ivy found herself humming. Good Lord, she was happy. The baby moved, a rolling sensation that never ceased to thrill and amaze her, and she rubbed her swollen stomach. “Yeah, I know. You’re happy, too. I’m glad.”

Things were going so well, she knew it was only a matter of time before it ended. At some point it was all going to come crashing down. Such was life. But until that moment, she would enjoy this. Enjoy spending time with a handsome, smart, interesting man. Enjoy the illusion that, for the first time in her life, she wasn’t alone.

She turned to rinse the dishcloth and saw Gracie standing in the doorway. Ivy jumped and slapped her hand over her heart. “You scared the crap out of me!”

“Sorry,” Gracie said, her small smile a pale imitation of her usual sunny grin. “I didn’t want to disturb you. You looked so happy. Though I’m not sure you should ever hum like that or, God forbid, sing out loud to the baby. It could scar the poor thing for life. Unless, of course, you meant to sound flat and out of key?”

“Why would anyone try to sound bad?”

“Beats me. I just didn’t want to assume you’re really that horrible at something as simple as humming. No offense.”

Ivy set the dishcloth aside to be put in the laundry later. “Saying
no offense
doesn’t actually stop someone from being offended after they’ve been insulted. You know that, right?”

“Is it really an insult if it’s the truth?”

“You bet.” But Ivy wasn’t really upset. She already knew she couldn’t carry a tune. Even her grade school music teacher had asked her to please lip sync along to their songs so as not to upset the rest of the kids. “Was there a reason you’re sneaking up on me, besides trying to send me to an early grave?”

“I finished the housekeeping. Could you tell Fay I’m leaving a little early today? I’m going to Pittsburgh to see a Pirates game.”

“I hadn’t realized you were a baseball fan.”

“I’m not, but my brothers are, and Dad and Molly need all the help they can get, taking five kids to the ballpark.”

“Just five?”

“My grandma’s watching the baby.”

“You should ask Luke to go with you.”

Gracie stiffened, her smile now seeming forced. “Why would I do that?”

“Because he’s hot,” Ivy said, ticking the reasons off on her fingers, “he’s sweet and funny, and you’re into him.”