Page 41 of Burden to Bear

“Okay, so did I also agree to having breakfast and forgot about it?” I questioned him, genuine curiosity in my tone.

Through his laughter, Brock reassured me. “You didn’t forget anything. And I’m sorry for just dropping by unannounced like this for the second time. I should have asked you this last night, but I guess I was a bit distracted. Once I got home, I thought about what I was going to make for dinner tonight, but I remembered your aversion to eggs and lemon cookies. Is there anything else that you might normally eat that you can’t stomach at the moment? Or do you have any allergies or things you simply don’t like, regardless of being pregnant?”

Maybe it was the tension that had been moving through my body leading up to his declaration that prevented me from falling, because I couldn’t come up with another explanation as to how I didn’t crumble to the ground after all that Brock had just said.

The man blew me away.

My baby’s father couldn’t be bothered to ask how I was feeling or even keep the sonogram I’d attempted to give him. Brock was standing here asking me about what foods I might not like to have for dinner.

Perhaps I was far too blind when I was with Todd to realize he wasn’t the guy I had wanted to believe or convinced myself he was.

The astonishment sort of took over, and I had a hard time thinking straight. So, in an effort to pull myself together, instead of answering his question, I asked one of my own. “Well, what are my options? Did you have something specific you hoped to make?”

His eyes roamed over my face in the sweetest way, forcing my belly to dip. “I really hoped to be able to make chicken tacos for us tonight, but if that doesn’t work for you, I could do a baked pasta dish. If neither of those sound good, I’m happy to make some steaks or salmon. I just want to be sure that there will be something you like to eat.”

This guy was pulling out all the stops for this dinner. I didn’t want to read too much into it, to believe this meant more to him than it actually did, but he wasn’t making it easy.

“Chicken tacos sound wonderful,” I replied quietly, still attempting to come to grips with how his consideration for me made me feel.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel like you must agree to having those because they’re what I’d hoped to make,” he said.

“I’m sure. In fact, I’ve been noticing lately that the idea of red sauce makes me feel a bit queasy, so the pasta dish probably would have been an issue for me.”

Smiling proudly, Brock declared, “Chicken tacos it is.”

“That sounds wonderful. I can’t wait to try them. Would you like me to bring anything?”

He shook his head. “No. I don’t want you to worry about bringing anything, unless there’s something you want or need that’ll help you enjoy yourself. I’ve got everything else covered.”

“Okay. I’ll see you tonight, then.”

He studied me for a beat in silence, a look of genuine excitement in his expression. Then he said, “I’m looking forward to having dinner with you, Mia.”

I closed my eyes briefly, not wanting to allow myself to get too caught up in the way he was making me feel. I needed to do something to break the tension. Opening my eyes again, I said, “Me, too. And I promise the next time you see me, I’ll be in real clothes.”

I’d meant for my comment to be lighthearted and funny. I assumed Brock would laugh, say goodbye, and walk away. He didn’t do that.

Instead, he allowed his eyes to rake over my body again, something darkening in his gaze, and when he returned his attention to me to speak, his voice had dipped an octave or two. “Don’t do that on my account. You could show up in what you’re wearing now, and I wouldn’t mind at all.”

My lips parted. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” he insisted. “We’re having dinner at my house, which is right next to yours. We’re not going to be at some five-star restaurant. I’m okay with you wearing whatever you’re comfortable in.”

Brock was such a good man. I shouldn’t have had any thoughts about something romantic with him, because I’d only wind up disappointed, but it was difficult not to have those thoughts when he was the way he was.

“I appreciate that. I’m sure I can find something that isn’t meant for bed but will also keep me comfortable,” I shared.

He dipped his chin. “Okay. Well, I’ll get out of your hair for now, and I’ll see you tonight.”

“That sounds great. See you later.”

With that, Brock sent a dazzling smile my way and turned to leave. Once he walked away, I closed the door, locked it, and turned to rest my back against it. Letting out a sigh, I wondered if this was a mistake.

Was I setting myself up for a disaster?

I had entered unfamiliar territory.

Nerves were not something I was accustomed to experiencing on a regular basis.

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