When Stars Collide (Light in the Dark #2) (13 page)

Xander waggles his brows. “A whole weekend just the two of us?”

I hiss at him—like a cat, because I mean
seriously?
“Buddy, I think we should figure out if I’m pregnant first, because if I am you’re losing your dick. Just sayin’.”

“Buddy?” he mumbles to himself like he can’t figure out why on Earth I would’ve called him that.

Still lying on the floor, I hold out a hand to him. “Help me up Mr. Betta-Not-Be-My-Baby-Daddy.”

He suppresses a laugh and holds out a hand to me. Growing serious, he asks, “What are you going to do?” He sounds pained. “If it’s positive,” he clarifies.

I sigh. I know what he’s thinking. “I wouldn’t get an abortion,” I tell him. “I don’t think I could do that, but …” I bite my lip. “I’m not ready for a baby, and how could you be, either? A baby’s a big deal and we’re already dealing with the whole uh-oh marriage thing. I don’t want an uh-oh baby too.”

“You don’t think we could do it?” he asks. “Be parents.”

“I’m sure we could.” I shrug, reaching for my shorts that lie on the floor. “But I think we could be better parents down the road. Like … when I’m thirty.”

He chuckles. “So, you promise one day, if this is negative, you’ll have my baby?” He grabs me by the waist and pulls me to him.

“Number one, it better be negative—no
if
about it—and number two, yes, if we’re still together. I’d like kids one day … far, far, into the future.”

He lowers his head and nips my bottom lip. “Now there
you
go using the
if
word.”

I shrug. “Hey, the summer isn’t up yet. You might grow sick of me.”

He chuckles. “I haven’t in the last nineteen years so I think you’re safe.” He winks at me and steps back, grabbing up the plastic bag. “Shall we?”

“We?” I echo. “Last I checked you don’t have to pee on the stick.” I snatch the bag from his hand and head for the bathroom.

He follows, of course.

I try to push him out of the bathroom but he’s too big. “Ugh,” I groan. “Go away.”

“Nuh-uh.” He shakes his head. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Obviously,” I mutter, letting my hands fall from his chest. The guy is as solid as a brick wall. 

I take the box out of the bag and air whooshes out of my lungs. My hands shake and Xander notices. He doesn’t say anything as he takes the box from my hands and opens it. He reads the directions out loud and hands me the slender white stick. 

He takes my face between his hands, forcing me to look at him. “It’ll be okay,” he tells me. “No matter what, it’s going to be okay.”

I nod once and then go to pee.

I don’t bother telling him to leave. I know he won’t anyway, and besides, I kind of want him here. Without him there, I might make a mad dash for the window, and running away from my problems won’t erase them.

I finish, lay the stick on the counter, and wash my hands. 

Xander wraps his arms around my body, smoothing his long fingers through my hair. His lips press ever-so-softly against the top of my head and I wrap my arms around his body, pressing the side of my face against his hard chest. Wetness coats my face, soaking into his shirt. I hate that I’m crying again, but I can’t help it. I’m scared to death. 

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

He is and he always has been. He’s my rock—the impenetrable force that holds me up when life gets rough. 

Minutes pass and finally, he says, “We can look now.”

I ease out of his hold and reach for the stick. My stomach drops. “What does this mean? I forgot what you said. Is it positive? Xander?” I ramble, seconds away from losing what’s left of my mind.

He picks up the directions, reads them, and looks at the stick. “It’s negative.”

I exhale a heavy breath. “You’re sure?” He nods and I break out in my happy dance. Raising my arms in the air, I chant, “Hallelujah, no bun in the oven here.” I smack my stomach for emphasis.

His lips twitch with laughter and he leans his hip against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches me. I’m sure I’m putting on an entertaining show as I dance around. 

When I finish my awkward dance, I look at him, fighting a smile. “Let’s grab our furbaby and go for a walk to celebrate.”

He shakes his head. “That’s your idea of a celebration?”

“Well, that and an Oreo McFlurry.” I wink. 

“Of course.” He steps away from the counter. “You better put on a shirt, though. You might give the old guy down the street a heart attack if he sees you like this.” He nods his head at my black bra.

I shrug. “Then he shouldn’t be looking. Not my fault these things are fucking great.” I grab my boobs—which to be honest there isn’t all that much there to grab—and Xander busts out laughing.

“You …” He pauses, wagging his finger in the air. “You’re something else.”

“Eh.” I shrug. “I try.” I sashay out of the bathroom, floating on cloud nine, because even though Aunt Flo might be late, I’m not pregnant.

I jog up the stairs and Prue lifts her head from where she’s lying outside Xander’s door. When she sees it’s only me, she promptly lies back down. 

I grab a shirt and tug it on. My hair’s a mess from lying on the floor so I run into the bathroom and brush it quickly before pulling it up into a messy bun. When I leave my room, Prue’s no longer lying on the floor and I find her downstairs with Xander, already on her leash. Her tail wags giddily; Prue loves to go for walks.

The last few evenings, Cade and Rae accompanied us for her evening walk, so it’s nice to go just us. 

Xander bends down and rubs her head and makes the funniest face at her; I laugh but I probably shouldn’t since I’m sure I’ve made the same face countless times. There’s something about a dog that brings out the weird in you. 

“Ready?” he asks.

I nod, shoving my feet into a pair of my flip-flops strewn on the floor. We head out through the garage and I stop to grab our sunglasses from his car. I hand him his and slip mine on before opening the door. It whirs up and then we wait for it to go back down before heading down the long driveway. 

We’re quiet as we walk and I marvel at the sunlight shining through the leaves of the trees. All too soon fall will be here and they’ll shrivel up and die. I’m scared that what I have with Xander will shrivel up and die with them. I know I went into this completely against it, but I
love
Xander and I can already feel myself falling
in
love with him. I don’t want to lose him, but I don’t see how I can keep him. We went into things all wrong. Who gets married and then decides to stay together? I feel like we’re destined to end in a fiery flame. I don’t want that but I can’t shake my feeling of foreboding. 

As we walk, Xander eventually reaches over and entwines our fingers together. I smile and walk that much closer to him.

I guess, if this is meant to end, there’s no harm in enjoying it while it lasts.

I look up at him and he smiles down at me. His dark hair tumbles over his forehead, and I swear he’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. It’s no wonder I’ve had no luck in the dating department the last few years. When you compare a guy to Xander, they’re always going to fall flat. And what I really love about him is he’s more than a pretty face—his heart is pure and kind, and he’s the most caring person I know. 

I lean my head against his shoulder and I know, rather than see, that he’s smiling. 

We walk another block before he speaks. “Let’s go on a date tonight.”

I lift my head from his shoulder. “Like a real, actual date?” I raise a brow.

He grins. “You
are
my wife, so a date seems appropriate, especially considering we haven’t had one before.”

I nod. “I’d like that.”

He grins. “Good. Pick you up at six.” Then he winks.

I laugh. “Lucky you, you won’t have to go far to pick me up. Only the next bedroom.”

He chuckles. “I promise to knock on your door like it’s a real date.”

“I’m going to hold you to that,” I jest.

This, right here, feels good. It feels right. It feels
real
.

What does one wear on their first date with the man that’s actually their husband?

A skintight sexy dress, that’s what.

I put more effort into my makeup than usual and leave my hair down, the ends curling. 

I slip my feet into a pair of strappy heels and admire my reflection in the floor-length mirror on my wall. I don’t get dressed-up often, but damn I look good—if I do say so myself.

I grab my clutch off my dresser just before a knock sounds on my bedroom door.

It’s six on the dot.

I swing the door open, and I can’t stop the smile when I see Xander. His hair flops over his forehead and he reaches up, pushing the shaggy strands back. Someone else might think he needs a haircut, but I like the look on him, along with the stubble on his cheeks. He’s dressed in a pair of gray pants with a blue button-down shirt tucked into them, and a black belt. He grins crookedly and pulls his hand from behind his back, revealing a single peony. 

My favorite flower. 

I gasp, shocked that he’d remember. I think it’s something I’ve only mentioned once, twice at the most, that I liked the flower. But he remembered.

“Thank you.” I take it from him. I inhale the fresh scent of the flower and try to hide the fact that I’m swooning. The boy is good. Too damn good. 

“We better hurry,” he says. “We have reservations at Blanco.”

I gape. “That place is like crazy expensive.”

He shrugs. “You deserve the best.”

“I would’ve been happy with McDonald’s.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “That might be so, but we’re not having our first date at McDonald’s.”

“Is McDonald’s second date appropriate?” I ask as I step out into the hall and start down the steps.

His chuckle sounds beside me. “More like third date.”

“You ruin all the fun. Happy meals are the best.”

I head to the kitchen and find that the single peony I hold is actually a part of a much bigger bouquet that he already has in a vase. I turn around and smile at him.

“You’re good,” I say, slipping the flower into the vase with the others.

He shoves his hands in his pockets and lifts his shoulders. “I try.”

Prue brushes against my leg and I look down to find her standing between us, tail wagging.

“Aw, look at her.” I frown. “She wants to go with us.”

Xander bends and pets her. “Sorry girl, not this time,” he tells her. “We’ll be back soon.”

She looks at us sadly but pads over to her bed and lies down, like she knows exactly what he said. 

“We should stop off on our way home and bring her some T-R-E-A-T-S.” I spell out the word, because Prue already knows what that word means, and if I say it out loud she’ll expect one right this second.

Xander smiles and swipes his keys from the kitchen counter. “We should,” he agrees, taking my hand and leading me out through the garage and to the driveway. 

He unlocks his truck and opens the passenger door for me. I slip inside and he closes the door, jogging around and sliding into the driver’s seat a second later.

He grins over at me and says, “You know, I never actually thought we’d end up here.”

“Married with a furbaby?” I ask, raising a brow.

He laughs and puts the car in reverse. “Well, that too, but I meant going on a date.”

“Man, we do everything ass backwards.” I laugh and bend down to adjust the strap of my heel.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

 When I look over at him, he’s grinning from ear to ear, and I can’t help but smile back. “Yeah, I wouldn’t, either,” I admit. 

“You know—” he clears his throat “—I wanted to take you on a date long before this.”

I lean my head against the headrest. “Really? And when was the first time you thought about it?”

He shrugs and keeps his eyes on the road as we exit the neighborhood and head for the highway. 

“Come on,” I plead. “Tell me. I won’t be weirded out.”

He wets his lips and glances at me quickly. “I was sixteen and you were thirteen and you were going out for pizza with that weird kid that only wore polo shirts. I have never been so jealous of a dorky-braces-wearing-
kid
in all my life. I felt like shit for feeling the way I did. You were practically just a kid and I was …
not
.”

I laugh lightly and glance out the window. “That’s the summer you basically ignored me.”

“Yeah, well, I was afraid I might do something stupid.”

“I wouldn’t have minded, you know? If you’d done something stupid.” 

He smiles crookedly. “That so?”

“Hey,” I say defensively, “crushing on your brother’s best friend is nothing new and you’re hot, who could blame me?”

He shakes his head. “So you still think I’m hot?”

“I
did
marry you.”

“So you married me because you think I’m hot?”

“No, I married you because I wanted to.”

The words slip out so quickly and there’s no way for me to take them back. It’s the first time I’ve admitted the part I played in us getting married, and the fact that I remember more than I originally thought.